When Fear Lives
by Loopylou
Summary: Sydney gets captured on a mission. She thinks things are simple, but she finds out that the truth rarely is that easy. Updated 17 Feb 06.
1. Waiting

Vaughn was frantic. Although they'd left for the airport as quickly as they could, bad weather was delaying all the planes. The flight to Moscow had been delayed by almost an hour. Nothing could take off until the storm front cleared. He was seriously thinking about using the private jet, but it's use hadn't been approved for this mission. They where flying out on a public airliner, and back on a military plane.  
  
All around the small lounge area, his men stood in little groups, talking o each other. There where 12 men in total, not including himself. He brought the total up to lucky thirteen. If he had gone around all of the groups, he'd have found they where all talking about the same thing. The same person. Sydney. Everyone who knew her liked her. She was extremely good at her job, nice to talk to and very well respected.  
  
From the first day, when she'd marched into his office and written a million page statement, she'd commanded respect. He had immediately liked her. He didn't know what to call the emotion he felt, but it was something quite close to love. He was desperately worried about her. He also felt a deep sense of guilt. He was the one who'd come up with the counter mission. He could remember his words clearly  
  
"All you need to do is get the sensor from the building and swap it. We get the real one. SD-6 get the dummy. It's a piece of cake."  
  
Her own words back had been just as well remembered, stored in his memory, where they would haunt him for ever if they where to late. If she where..  
  
"Is that it? Sounds too good to be true. But what the hell, I could really use an easy mission." She'd laughed as she said them.  
  
He sighed and glared at the electronic board displaying the flight times, as if he could change it. Their flight was still delayed. He swore softly and sipped the cup of Luke-warm coffee in his hand. There was a selection of pastries on a table across the room from him. He spotted his favourite, apple wraps. He also saw Sydney's favourite, croissants. He didn't want anything to eat, but couldn't take his eyes of the croissants. The last time he'd seen Sydney, she'd been eating one.  
  
The board behind him beeped as the information on it changed. He turned and his first smile of the day passed across his face. The Moscow flight was boarding. They'd finally got a go. Around him, the agents he was working with scrambled around to gather their stuff. He picked up his heavy black bag and slung it across his shoulder. He grabbed his briefcase in the other hand and walked out of the lounge. He had a plane to catch. 


	2. Fear

When Fear Lives  
  
Authors note - Ok, listen up! This is my first ever Alias fic, so if I've got anything wrong, please tell me! Other than that, please enjoy reading it. Oh and don't forget to Review!  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own any of this (although I'd love to!). no money will be made from the use of this story. Please let me play with them! I'll put them back when I'm finished, honest!  
  
******************  
  
He hurried through the building's numerous dark corridors, heading for a very important meeting. He was already over ten minutes late but didn't care. His worst fears had materialized. Sydney had been captured during a mission.  
  
Her contact had just phoned him, telling him that she hadn't reached her final destination of Moscow, where she was supposed to pick up a valuable piece of new equipment that could help them to take down SD-6. Her contact, a man called Peter Fenwick, was supposed to take her to the building where it was hidden. He'd waited for two hours, and she hadn't shown up. He phoned vaughn as soon as it was safe to do so.  
  
He knew that she made it into the country, but after that, he had no idea what had happened to her. He reached the de-briefing room, and after knocking quietly on the dark wooden door, he strode boldly into the room.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, sir." He said, taking his seat.  
  
"Where is she?" came the gruff reply from his superior officer, a serious man called White. "She was supposed to be back here six hours ago."  
  
"I don't know, sir." He replied honestly, trying desperately to keep his feelings from showing on his face. The helplessness he was feeling was great.  
  
"What do you mean 'I don't know'?" he asked impatiently.  
  
"We believe she may have been captured, possibly by agents of the Russian government."  
  
To say those words had cost him a great deal. The people he worked with would never know it, indeed, they could never know that he was in love with Sydney. His words where greeted by a dead silence. For a moment nobody spoke as they tried to absorb the enormity of what he'd just said. His superior officer was the first to find his voice  
  
"Do you mean K-directorate?"  
  
"We've. we don't know, sir. We just don't know."  
  
"Does SD-6 know she's been captured?"  
  
"By now, they will know, sir. She was due back there last night." Just then, the black phone in the middle of the table rang, startling them all. Vaughn glanced at White, then picked it up. He listened to the slightly staticy voice, then took the phone away from his ear and held it out for White to take.  
  
"It's Peter Fenwick, sir. He wants to speak to you."  
  
"They've found her." His superior officer's three short words sent a beam of fragile hope rushing through Vaughn's body. "She's still in Moscow. They've requested we bring a medical team with us."  
  
"He said that the building she's in is very heavily guarded, so you'll all carry weapons. We'll get you security clearance for the airports. He's going to meet you at Moscow airport."  
  
"Does SD-6 know where she is?" Vaughn asked, praying to every god he could think of that they didn't.  
  
"No and that's how we're going to keep it." White said. "We did not locate Miss Bristow, but found another young woman instead. Her name is Chloe Hewlett. Is that clear?"  
  
He was greeted by a wave of nods. "Okay, then. You all know the drill. Pack up and move out!" 


	3. Pain

Sydney was very cold and stiff. Her head hurt, and when she reached up to touch it, she discovered that her wrists where bound together with thick metal chains. The floor she was sleeping on was damp. Through a minute gap in her blindfold, she could see her breath misting the air as she breathed out of her nose. There was tape over her mouth. She could also see that she was in some kind of building, though she didn't know where. Her last memory was of slipping the tiny dummy sensor into her bag, ready to swap for the real one.  
  
She jumped slightly as heavy footsteps approached her, watching warily as they walked past her vastly reduced field of vision. She heard the man- she knew it was a man from the footsteps - pick something up and turn round. The next thing she knew, she had been roughly pulled to her feet. She barely managed to stop herself form crying out in pain as he yanked roughly on her stiff muscles.  
  
Her right ankle gave way under her, and she would have fallen had it not been for her captor's rough grip on her arm, which was wrenched painfully as she fell. She was dragged into another, larger room. She knew it was larger, because the sound of their footsteps echoed.  
  
After exactly 12 steps, she was pushed roughly to the floor. The tape covering her mouth was roughly ripped off. She gently touched her sore lips with her tongue. The blindfold was left on, but she could see a tiny amount of the room. Enough to realize that she was in deep trouble.  
  
"Who are you? What the hell do you want with me?" she asked hoarsely. She would have gladly traded all the secrets in the world for a glass of iced water.  
  
Her captor's only answer was to backhand her hard across the face. She tasted blood and knew he'd split her lip as he'd hit her. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and smiled grimly. Her hands weren't free, but there was enough slack in the chain to give her some freedom of movement.  
  
"Go to hell! Until you answer my questions I'm not telling you anything!" she spat.  
  
His booted foot lashed out, hitting her squarely in the chest. For a few awful seconds, she couldn't breath because of the pain. It felt like he'd broken everyone of her ribs. The moment passed, and she took a deep breath, feeling her ribs protest. God, that was bad, she thought shakily. If she died in this god-forsaken place, it would be on her feet, not on her knees. She vowed to herself that she would not break down in front of him.  
  
Her clothes where torn and dirty, covered in dried blood and dust. She was wearing a pair of thin black pants and a light blue silk shirt- perfect for blending in at a semi-formal dinner. They offered her little protection from the bitter cold and damp seeping from the floor. The discomfort of sitting in one position on that floor was almost unbearable.  
  
When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and halting, almost like English wasn't his first language. He had a heavy Belgian accent that, combined with his difficulty with English, made understanding him almost impossible.  
  
"Tell me where the sensor is." He demanded.  
  
Whoa, what, they don't have it by now? She thought in surprise, but she decided to play it safe.  
  
"It's in my bag."  
  
"No. You are lying. It is not." He shifted his position, and asked her again  
  
"Tell me now!"  
  
She didn't answer, didn't know how to. Whatever she said, he was going to think she was lying. She heard him move. Seconds later, she felt the cold sting of a blade along her side. Gasping with pain, she tried to move away from it. Just as she thought that she wasn't going to be able to bare it any longer, he took the blade away from her side.  
  
"Now you tell me?"  
  
Sydney just shook her head, not knowing where the sensor was. It must have fallen out of her bag at some point after she'd been knocked out.  
  
He picked up her hand, examining her well cared for fingernails carefully and she knew what was coming. She tried to pull her hand away from him and failed. She was already weak from lack of sleep, dehydration and blood-loss from the cut he'd inflicted upon her. That combined with the heavy metal chains around her wrists made it almost impossible for her to resist. There wasn't enough slack to get the leverage she needed to pull her hand free.  
  
He started with her left thumbnail, gripping it firmly with the pliers and pulled. She screamed as the nail was painfully pulled clear of her thumb. His booted foot connected with the bloody wound on her side and the scream abruptly stopped as the remaining air left her body in a rush. Stars danced around the edge of her vision.  
  
He waited a moment until she'd started to recover and then pulled out another nail. This time she managed not to scream. She was very close to passing out. He pulled out another nail, and still she told him nothing. Instead, she let the darkness take her away from the pain. 


	4. Trapped

She woke up alone. She was hurt quite badly, she knew. She struggled to sit up, then wrapped her wounded fingers with her already bloody shirt. Another man, one she didn't know came and dragged her to her feet. Her chains and blindfold had been removed while she was unconscious. It was a bad sign. If the where letting her see their faces, the meant to kill her. They wouldn't let her go if she could identify them. He was supporting most of her weight. He didn't speak to her, but silently dragged her through a maze of corridors.  
  
"You should tell him what he wants to know." He said, not too unkindly, as they stopped outside a metal door.  
  
"Can.Can't tell him what I don't know." She said painfully.  
  
He didn't answer her, just dragged her along in silence. The building they where in had been abandoned for years, she could tell from the dust and dirt everywhere she looked. She was shaking with the strain of walking. Finally, they came to a door. He opened it and pushed her through.  
  
She landed heavily on the floor with a groan of pain. The heavy metal door slammed she was left alone in the cold, dark room. She stayed like that for quite a while, until the pain in her ribs subsided to a more manageable level. From what she could see of the door, she thought that the room had once been a large freezer. She could hear her own heart beating in the silence. Her breathing was loud.  
  
She sat with her back to the farthest wall from the door, huddled back into the corner. The wall was metal, and cold on her back, but she was glad it was there. It made her feel just a little bit safer. She had never been so scared in her life. Eventually, she fell asleep, curled up around her injured side. She guessed that she'd been asleep for about four hours, from the way the small amount of light coming into the small room had changed.  
  
She thought, This could be it. I could die today, and know one would know that I was dead. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be vulnerable and hated it. The feeling crashed over her so suddenly it left her shaking. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to keep warm. Cold tears ran down her face, but she made move to wipe them away.  
  
Time passed and she didn't notice. The door was opened and a glass of water was put down inside the room. She didn't notice. In her mind, she could only see images of Vaughn. The flashed through her mind like a mental photo album. In some he was smiling, in others grim. The most prominent one was of him dead. She knew he would find her. He'd never let her down yet. She focused on the image of his face in her mind and a new feeling surfaced.  
  
Determination. Determination not to let them win. She wanted to live. She wanted to see Vaughn and her friends again. Most of all, she wanted to take SD-6 down. They had taken Danny away from her. She wasn't going to give them her life as well.  
  
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out what looked like a large axe on the wall next to the door. She stood up carefully and with one hand resting lightly on the wall, walked over too it. It was an axe. Satisfied that she had a way out once she gathered some information, she walked slowly back to her corner and sat down on the cold floor. She was exhausted from the short walk.  
  
She'd seen the glass of water, but knew better than to drink it. It could have been laced with anything. She wanted so desperately to pretend that she was too valuable to kill, the push the thought that the water may be poisoned and drink it. But she didn't. Her through training prevented her from drinking so much as a drop of the water.  
  
She blinked at the dark a few times, trying to collect her thoughts. Her ribs and hand throbbed horribly in the cold. She needed to plan what she was going to do. From the little of the building she'd seen, she didn't know where the exit was. She was just going to have to wait for help. 


	5. Guilt

Peter Fenwick looked anxiously through the cleverly concealed hole. He had to stand on tiptoe to see through, but he still had a good enough view to see that Sydney was still alive. She looked to be hurt, but that was the least of his worries.  
  
She was playing with a scrap of fabric from her shirt, wrapping and unwrapping around her uninjured thumb. They'd never met , but he knew Vaughn, and had heard of her through different agents. He'd heard enough stories of Sydney to know that she was a good agent. In fact, she was one of the best.  
  
She was one of the best because she wanted to live. She had more things in her life to live for than he had, and yet, he'd still sold her out at the mention of pain. At the mention of death. He had been forced to take a group of Belgian rebels to the building where they where going to meet. They had threatened him with death. They had also threatened Sydney's friends and father.  
  
When Sydney had shown up at the meeting point, he had knocked her out and carried her to the waiting van, where he'd received both a large sum of money and a veiled death threat. On the way back to the van, he'd managed to phone Vaughn. He hadn't mentioned his part in her capture. He begged with the rebels to go with them, knowing that if she died, it would be all his fault. He was here to try and keep her alive.  
  
He noticed that she hadn't touched the glass of water he'd left for her. It was clean, but her training would prevent her from drinking it. There was nothing harmful in it, and wouldn't be as long as he could get it to her. He was going to try and slip her some food when the others where out of the way. He watched as she broke down in to sobs that wracked her body.  
  
Guilt consumed him as he watched her cry. The group's leader, a man known only to him as Artis, entered the room. He was carrying a gun. He forced Sydney to her feet by putting the gun under her chin. She straitened her shoulders and faced him with as much dignity as she could.  
  
Fenwick watched as they left the room. He didn't realise that someone was with him in the tiny room until they spoke.  
  
"What are you doing?" the question was harshly asked, by a tall man.  
  
"I'm waiting for Artis." Fenwick said, just managing not to stutter.  
  
"He's with the Girl. You'll have to wait for him in there." The taller man pointed to a small room, which had once been an office.  
  
Fenwick nodded and walked in, knowing that there was nothing else he could do. He sat down on one of the ripped, dusty chairs and prepared for a long wait. 


	6. News

In the middle of the busy airport terminal, Vaughn's cell phone rang. He cursed as her tried to hold two bags and pull his cell phone out of his jacket pocket without dropping his bags. He managed to get it out and yanked the aerial out with his teeth as he walked through a set of glass doors.  
  
"Vaughn here." He said.  
  
"It's not K-directorate. One of their agents was found murdered this morning. His ID and passport had been taken. They think that one of the group is using that to travel with." White said. "The body is in our morgue. We're examining it for any trace evidence that would tell us who you're dealing with."  
  
"Then who is it? Do we know who we're dealing with?" Vaughn asked in equal parts frustration and relief.  
  
"We believe that it may be an off shoot of the.." A crackle of static interrupted whatever White was saying. Vaughn glanced behind him and saw a metal girder. He walked away from it and was glad to hear the static disappear.  
  
"You instructions are the same. You may use as much force as necessary. If you can get him alive, we would like to interview the leader of this group. Fenwick won't be meeting you at the airport. He missing. We don't know if he was taken after he phoned us. "  
  
"If he's there, do you want him brining back?"  
  
"Yes. We're sending you a map with the location where she's being held."  
  
"Damn!" The building had interfered with the signal again, this time cutting him off completely. He'd been about to ask where they where getting picked up.  
  
He put the phone back into his pocket and hurried to catch up with his team, whom where all waiting a polite distance away, chatting about the mission.  
  
They all quietened down and looked at him as he approached. When he had their total attention, he started to speak.  
  
"It's not k-directorate." He said. "Our instruction are the same. We get in, rescue Sydney and get out. They want the leader of the group. We have been authorised to kill if we need to. Come on, or we'll miss our ride." He said and started walking to the exit of the large airport.  
  
Once they where outside, they quickly found their ride. It was a large, black van, the only vehicle that they'd been able to find that could seat all thirteen of them. They all piled in, and with Vaughn driving, headed for the outskirts of Moscow. 


	7. Thoughts

Author's note- Okay, I thought that I'd write this chapter a little differently! It's written as Jack's thoughts when he learns that Sydney's been captured. If you like it, I'll do one for each character! Umm, this chapter is gonna be a bit shorter than the rest, and I'm deeply sorry about that! If the character seems wrong, it's all my fault! I haven't been watching Alias for that long, so I'm still learning about the characters.  
  
When I heard that Syd had been captured, I almost jeopardised the mission I was on in my haste to get back into the USA, where I could at least feel useful. I was so worried that my team-mates thought that I'd lost my mind. All it took was three little words -Sydney's been captured- to splinter my world.  
  
Instead of being able to look for her, I was stuck in some God-forsaken corner of Borneo, waiting for a shipment of black market small arms to reach our contact. He, of course was late to the drop off point with the only weapon in the shipment we where interested in.  
  
By the way, the weapon was a small laser gun capable of cutting through a solid steel door in less than ten seconds. In the right hands, it would prove to be a hugely useful in taking down SD-6. In the wrong hands it would be deadly.  
  
But I digress. My thoughts have suddenly developed a worrying tendency to wander. After that agent, who's name I can't remember, told me that my daughter was missing, all I wanted to do was abandon the mission and find her. I wanted to take her into my arms and tell her the truth about everything. To tell her that I loved her. To know that she was safe.  
  
The words 'please, God let her be alive' keep running through my head like a manta. Oh, I know only too well that she's strong, that she's tough. She's had to be, with all that her jobs have put her through. Even after SD- 6 killed Danny, she tried to put on a brave face. Tried to keep the world from knowing exactly how much loosing him had hurt. I think a part of her died that day, when she found him. It's something I hoped she'd never have to go through.  
  
I know that she's been captured before, but this time something felt wrong. No, wrong isn't the right word. Everything felt, well, the only word that remotely covers it is ominous. There's something big going on, and I don't know if I'm going to see my daughter alive again.  
  
Instead of looking for her, I'm sitting on a plane, bound for Cairo. God help the men that took her. Because if I don't kill them, Vaughn will. He loves her, I know. And I know she loves him. But they can't act on that love yet, wont be able to until SD-6 is destroyed. For good. I intend to be there for that day. 


	8. Hell

Question after question bombarded her. She didn't know how to answer most of them. After each question that she failed to answer, he would hit her. She's given up trying to defend herself, because he would just wait until her guard dropped and then hit her. She hurt all over from his blows.  
  
  
  
  
  
A few stray tears slid down her face, mixing with the blood there from her broken nose. They'd been in the room for nearly an hour, and she hadn't told him anything useful. She watched him as he walked out of the room, slamming the door after himself. She sighed, glad to be alone for a few minutes.  
  
She raised her arm slightly, wondering where the water that was running down it had come from. It took her a few seconds to work out that it was her blood. She was so tired that she didn't really care. It had been over 20 hours since she'd last had something to eat, and almost 12 since she drank anything. Only the discomfort of the hard, cold floor and the chains was keeping her awake.  
  
"Are you a complete asshole, or is it just a part time thing?" she asked conversationally as he came back into the room. His only answer was to hit her in the face.  
  
"Full-time. Thought so." She said, wiping blood for the corner of her mouth with her wrist. The sarcasm wasn't borne of defiance, but fear. She was using it as a defence mechanism.  
  
When Artis, as she'd learned he was called, had come back into the room, he'd brought a small silver key with him. He used it to unlock the chains around her wrists.  
  
"Now we will fight." He said as he motioned for her to get to her feet. "if you do not fight, you die." He added, looking meaningfully at a guard standing next to the door. The gun was plainly visible in his hands.  
  
"Okay. I'll fight." She said.  
  
She stood up, finding that her legs weren't quite as shaky as she'd expected, and faced him. He bowed, and as bowed back uncertainly. After all, it could be a cleverly planned trap.  
  
He made the first move, aiming a punch at her head. She ducked past him, and managed to get in a quick jab as she span past. She jump kicked him in the face, then span as soon as she landed and kicked him in the middle of the back. She hit him with her elbow bent so that the inside of her arm snapped out with stinging force across his face. He lost his balance and had to take a step backward to re-balance himself.  
  
After that one tiny victory, things rapidly changed. He kicked her in the collarbone. The impact knocked her into the wall. It was like being hit by a car. She lay on the floor, too stunned and in too much pain to move. He kicked her in the ribs. A sharp pain started in her ribs where his foot had connected and she knew that he'd broken a few more of her ribs.  
  
Artis kicked her in the stomach. She gasped and curled up from the pain. The pain was still there, but she blocked it out as she got to her feet, willing herself to concentrate only on him. If she didn't, she was as good as dead. He kicked her again, sending her to the floor. She was in no condition to fight, especially against as skilled as opponent as he was.  
  
Artis smiled lazily as he approached her. She watched him warily as she tried to gather the energy to get up, knowing that he was going to do something to her. Knowing that it was going to be bad. He smiled again as she struggled to get to her feet. His foot slammed into her shoulder, sending pain racing through it.  
  
She rolled away from him before his next kick could find it's target, and got painfully to her feet. She had just launched a flying kick when all hell broke loose. 


	9. Shadows

Peter Fenwick knew that he was going to be in deep, deep trouble when he got back home. He'd betrayed his country, a good friend and an innocent girl, all to make money from a black market deal. He'd sold the sensor to a bidder from Iraq to get money for his family. Artis didn't know where the sensor was. He thought that Sydney had managed to hide it somewhere.  
  
Peter was still waiting in Artis's office. On the desk before him, there was a large silver gun, with ammo next to it. He didn't know who it belonged to, but was willing to bet that it was Artis's.  
  
Even from the office, which was quite a distance away from the main room, he could hear sounds of a fight. He shivered with disgust. He'd never liked fighting and had only joined the CIA to get revenge against the terrorist group that had caused his parents death while they where on vacation in Iceland.  
  
Unfortunately, he had a natural aptitude for fighting that the CIA had recognised. They'd sent him out into the field from almost day one. That had been almost ten years ago. He was sick of fighting a war he didn't believe in anymore, but he could only see one way out.  
  
He'd been pressured and blackmailed into helping with Sydney's kidnapping, but at heart, he hadn't wanted to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anyone. All he'd wanted was payback for his family. Instead, he'd been forced to kill by the people who where supposed to save lives.  
  
He couldn't do it any more, couldn't hurt anymore innocent people like he'd hurt Sydney. He was slowly going mad with the pressures that he faced every day. The gun on the table spoke to him. It offered him an easy way out. He was reaching for it when the door to the office flew open. He yanked his hand back like he'd been burned.  
  
A guard who Peter recognised strode into the room. They had strongly disliked each other from their very first meeting, where Peter had pointed out a flaw in the guard's plan to steal the sensor.  
  
"YOU." He shouted, pointing at Peter. "OUT, NOW!"  
  
Peter got up and left the room so fast that he was tripping over his own feet. He could here a commotion outside the doors and opened them a crack to look through. What he saw shocked him deeply. He closed the door silently as walked quickly away. 


	10. Blood

Sydney had no time to react as Artis pulled out his gun and fired. The sound seemed to echo endlessly round the room. There was no pain at the bullet entered her body, just terror and the need to get away from him. The pain, she knew would come later. Black dots swam around the edge of her vision. Her legs gave way and she slumped to the floor. Her last thoughts before she passed out where of Vaughn.  
  
When she came round a few minutes later, she knew that she was lying on her back, because she could feel the hard floor under her shoulders. She could also feel something cold and sticky. IOh, god, /I she thought Ithat's my blood./I She remembered the gunshot, the lancing pain in her stomach.  
  
II'm shot,/I she thought, shocked. With that thought, the pain began. She knew that she needed help. Her movements where slow and shaky. Her stomach felt like it was on fire. She could feel a sticky wetness there and knew it was her own blood. She was terrified, not of dying, but of leaving Vaughn behind.  
  
Around her, she could hear the sounds of a gunfight. She could also hear Vaughn's voice. Within seconds, the sounds of the gunfight stopped, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined them.  
  
"Vaughn?" she asked quietly. Vaughn's worried face appeared in her line of sight and she knew that she was safe. He was sure that he'd made no noise, but she still knew that he was there.  
  
Her eyes met his and a silent plea passed from her to him. He nodded and she closed her eyes, trusting him to keep her safe. She was shivering, despite the blanket that had been draped over her lower body. Her face was white and drawn. Vaughn knew that she must be in terrible pain.  
  
A pool of dark looking blood had formed beneath her. He had seen the gun- shot wound below her ribs before he'd been pushed away be another agent, who'd layered as much clean gauze as he could find in their merger first aid packs on the wound.  
  
Vaughn reached into his small bag and pulled out a syringe and a vial of morphine, which had been given to him by the med team. He knew that he shouldn't give her any painkillers until the med team had checked the extent of her injuries, but this was his fault.  
  
He'd got her into the trouble in the first place. If he hadn't sent her on this mission, she would be fine right now. Plus the fact that the medical team where still waiting in the van for the all clear to let them know it was safe for them to enter the building.  
  
He couldn't let her suffer. He gave her the injection. Where her torn and dirty shirt had ridden up, he could see dark bruising on her ribs. There was a deep cut on her left arm that had closed. The skin around it was red and tender, suggesting an infection. That wasn't the worst of her more minor injuries. Her right wrist was broken, even he could tell that. The gunshot wound wasn't immediately fatal, but she could still die of blood loss.  
  
A trail of dried blood ran down her face from her nose. Both of her wrists where raw and bleeding. He'd seen more cuts and bruises everywhere he looked. She shifted slightly on the hard floor and he took hold of her trembling hand, which had been lying on her stomach. With his other hand, he brushed her wildly tangled hair off her face.  
  
"Hey," he said gently as her eyes locked onto his.  
  
"Hey." Was all she could manage to say in response, before she gave in to the morphine. 


	11. Death

Author's note- Hi! I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and I promise each person who leaves a signed review that I'll R&R one of your stories when I get time! This chapter contains a character death.  
  
Peter Fenwick ran through the dusty corridors of the were-house. He'd seen Artis taken down by a quick blow to the head, delivered with much violence by Vaughn, who's eyes had been blazing with fury. He'd also seen Sydney get shot by Artis, thought that she was dead, killed by his actions. In that moment, he blamed himself for everything that had happened.  
  
Guilt was the only thing he felt as he ran, pushing himself to get as much distance between himself and that room as possible. His throat burned as he gasped, trying to pull air into his straining lungs. The guilt pushed out every other emotion he should have been feeling. In his mind, all he could see was image after image of people he knew dead and dying. It was safe to say that he'd lost his mind.  
  
As he ran, he remembered the shiny silver gun. He remembered the promise it had made to him. The promise of an easy way out if he needed one. He made his way to the office where he'd seen the gun and found it to be empty, much to his relief. He walked in and shut the door behind him with a little bang. He also flicked off the lights as he walked past, dropping the room into semi darkness.  
  
The gun was still on the desk, along with the ammo. He picked both up and sat down in the torn and dusty chair behind the desk. Moving slowly, he loaded the gun and put it to his head, against his temple. That gun was cold and heavy in his hand. He closed his eyes as he pressed the cold metal against his head.  
  
As his finger tightened on the trigger, tears began to flow down his face, leaving clean streaks in their wake. He was absolutely terrified by what he was going to do. His finger tightened even more on the trigger, and with a single bullet, he bid goodbye to the world. The gun fell un-noticed to the floor, where it landed with a clatter of metal on stone. The sound hung heavily in the silence. 


	12. Rescue

"Sydney, wake up, please." Vaughn begged. He'd been repeating the same words over and over again for the last hour, since she'd come out of surgery. He got up, and walked round the room. The movement helped to ease his cramped muscles a little.  
  
As he passed the end of her bed, he picked up her chart and started reading it. He sucked in a deep breath as he saw the full extent of her injuries. She had a broken wrist, broken ribs, a punctured lung and cuts and bruises all over her body. The doctor who'd written the chart had also noted that her fingernails had been pulled out.  
  
He put the chart back and walked back to the chair where he'd been sitting. After he'd got his own minor cuts and bruises looked at, he'd come directly to her room. He took her hand and watched her face for any movement.  
  
She had an oxygen mask on her face. Beneath the mask, her face was covered in small cuts and bruises. A nurse walked soundlessly into the room through another door and adjusted the IV line, injecting what he suspected where pain killing drugs. He sat down in the hard plastic chair next to her bed.  
  
He'd been sitting there for a few hours when her voice startled him. "What happened?" she asked groggily. Her voice came out weak and shaky. He reached over and gently took the oxygen mask off her face, letting her talk more easily. Her side felt like it was on fire. She knew that if she dared to look, the whole of her body would be covered in cuts and bruises. She hurt all over.  
  
"Artis shot you." Vaughn said simply.  
  
She muttered something under her breath. It sounded a lot like 'bastard'. He smiled at that. IThat's my girl,/I he thought.  
  
"The bullet punctured your lung and you lost a lot of blood, but you're gonna be okay."  
  
"Oh," she said, "Damn." He didn't tell her how close the bullet had come to hitting her heart. She smiled at him, then closed her eyes, suddenly tired. He liked the fact at she was smiling.  
  
"Thank you." She said simply.  
  
"What for?" he asked, mystified to what he'd done.  
  
"For getting me out of there." She tried to sit up and gasped when pain ripped through her body. Vaughn adjusted the pillows under her until she was propped up.  
  
"Where are we?" she asked, feeling a little more awake. Vaughn reached over, gently picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, being careful not to disturb the IV needle and line in her wrist. With his other hand, he reached up and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.  
  
"In a CIA run hospital a little south of Moscow." He said, "How do you feel?"  
  
She considered his words of a while "Umm, sore." Was all she finally came up with. "How long have I been here?"  
  
"Almost five days. You where unconscious for most of that time. You also had a fever and spent a day babbling about how we had to change the light bulbs in the room." He paused and cleared his throat "you just got back form surgery about an hour ago. The gunshot wound had reopened."  
  
She frowned a little at that, then asked "What about him? Is he still alive?"  
  
"Yes. He's in custody." Vaughn said quietly. She took the news much better than he expected, saying  
  
"I hope the bastard rots in some hell hole for the rest of his life!"  
  
"Yeah, well, he's got a lot of agents after him. Your dad and I included." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Hey, Syd, you have a meeting tomorrow with a shrink. He's called.." His words trailed off as he realised she was asleep. He leaned carefully over and kissed her gently on the mouth before he got up and left the room. He was walking down the long white hall when he say Sydney's doctor.  
  
"Doctor? Can I talk to you?" Vaughn asked. There was something important that he needed to know.  
  
"Sure." The doctor said, and walked a short distance down the hall, where there was a cluster of bright orange plastic chairs. The both sat down.  
  
"Was she ra." Vaughn started to ask.  
  
"No, there was no sign of a sexual assault." The doctor said.  
  
"Thank God." He said and sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the beginning of the mother of all headaches starting.  
  
"Thank you doctor. That was all I wanted to know." Vaughn said and stood up to leave.  
  
"Get some rest. You'll be no use to her in a hospital bed." The doctor said and turned to leave. Vaughn walked the rest of the way to the stairs, and started down them. He was going to interrogate Artis. 


	13. Denial

Vaughn played absently with the bow on the small stuffed toy he'd bought Sydney from the hospital gift shop. It was a tiny brown and white giraffe, who he'd promptly christened George. He was walking down towards Sydney's private room. In his other hand was a stack of magazines that his sister's friend had donated, for a 'good cause'. She didn't know what the good cause was. He knew that she was going to be bored while she was stuck at the hospital.  
  
  
  
  
  
He was waiting outside her room while she talked to the psychiatrist, who'd just gone into the room.  
  
  
  
--Inside Sydney's room--  
  
"Hi, Sydney. I'm doctor Lowe." He spoke carefully and quietly, as if she would break if he raised his voice.  
  
She looked at him as if he had two heads. "Why are you talking like that?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm not crazy just because some asshole locked me up and hurt me!"  
  
"I'm a psychiatrist." He said, as if that explained everything. "We are worried about you. You need to talk about what happened to you."  
  
"Look, doctor, with all due respect, I'm not the one who needs a psychiatrist. I didn't do this to myself, you know."  
  
"I know that." He agreed quietly, looking at his hands. She was the first patient who'd spoken to him like that.  
  
"Then why the hell do you wanna talk to me?" she snapped. The psychiatrist raised his hands in surrender and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
"Can I talk to her?" Vaughn asked him as he passed.  
  
"Yep. I'm not getting anywhere." He said and walked away. Vaughn fought down an urge to smack him round the back of his blond head as he passed.  
  
Vaughn found the psychiatrist's attitude extremely annoying. He was pressuring Sydney into talking when she obviously wasn't ready. He walked quietly into the room, like the psychiatrist had just moments before. Sydney was sitting on the hard bed with her back to him.  
  
She flinched involuntarily as he touched her arm. He pulled his hand away, hurt even though he knew she hadn't done it on purpose. He knew that the time she spent with Artis must have been harrowing for her. He'd seen the physical damage that Artis had inflicted upon her, knew of some of the mental torture he'd put her through.  
  
He still didn't know it all, wouldn't unless one of them talked, but they where locked in an un-easy pact. She wouldn't talk about it because the memories where still too painful, too raw for her to deal with. He wouldn't talk about it because he knew what he'd done would get him locked up for life- or worse.  
  
"Hey, Syd." He said.  
  
"Hi." She replied flatly  
  
"How are you feeling today?" Vaughn asked, desperately trying to make conversation. She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.  
  
"Maybe you should lie back down?" Vaughn said. He was surprised as she obediently swung her legs onto the bed and lay back down.  
  
"Oh, I brought you some things." He picked the magazines and stuffed giraffe up of the chair, where he'd put them when he first came into the room. He put the magazines down on the bedside table and passed her George. She smiled slightly and started to cry. 


	14. Tears

Vaughn looked at her blankly for a second, wondering why she was crying, then sat on the bed and took her into his arms. Her tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt and through to his skin.  
  
He murmured words of comfort until her sobs had died down a little.  
  
"Syd? What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked, deeply concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"  
  
She shook her head against his wet shoulder. He smoothed her hair, and asked "Then what is it?"  
  
"I.I don't know." She said through her tears. "When you gave my that toy, I wished. I wanted."  
  
"You wanted what?" he gently prompted her.  
  
"I wanted a normal life. I wanted to be with you." She said quickly, but quietly, "I think that I love you." She said.  
  
He was so shocked by her words that any chance of him being able to form a coherent sentence was slim. His mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. Sydney took his reaction wrong, assuming that he was upset by her words. More tears flowed down her face.  
  
"I'm sorry. I should never have told you that. I'm really sorry." She said and pushed away from him and looked at the polished floor, embarrassed by her admission. She was moving carefully, aware that every movement pulled the stitches holding her still healing wound together.  
  
"No, it's okay. I'm not upset or angry, Syd. I want to be with you too. I wanted to be with you since the first time we met." He spoke sincerely, keeping eye contact with her. She held his gaze and he saw her eyes widen slightly with surprise.  
  
"What? That's great!" She said, a huge smile beginning to spread across her face. It slowly faded as she thought of something  
  
"But we can't be together because of SD-6." She said sadly.  
  
A wicked smile crossed Vaughn's face. "They think you're dead." He said.  
  
She paled suddenly and he grabbed her arm, supporting her weight. As he gently lowered her back onto the bed, she moaned softly.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
She didn't answer him. His anxious finger danced over the transparent skin at her wrist, feeling for a pulse. He couldn't find one. 


	15. Interrogation

Artis sat in the solitary confinement cell. The room was small, dim and some-what damp. He was muttering to himself in his native language, and gesturing wildly with his hands. He was a large, powerfully built man. His face was heavily lined. He had thick, dark eyebrows above dead eyes. His hair was black, but it was graying at the temples.  
  
Occasionally he got up from where he was sitting on the bed and paced the room like a caged animal. He moved with surprising grace for such a large man. He'd been stripped and searched, then been told to dress himself in a vile orange jumpsuit. His feet where bare, except for the thin white socks he wore.  
  
Two men dressed in identical plain black uniforms stepped through the heavy metal door. Their movements where perfectly co-ordinated. They'd been very well trained.  
  
"Come with us please." The taller of the two men said. The other man held the cell door open, giving them room to walk through after Artis' hands and feet had been cuffed together. The guard swung the door shut with a clang when they had passed.  
  
Vaughn sat impatiently in the interviewing room. He tapped his fingers against the desk as he waited. He'd been waiting for almost ten minutes when Artis shuffled into the room, flanked by two guards.  
  
"You have fifteen minutes, Agent Vaughn." One reminded him as they left, closing the heavy door behind him.  
  
"How's Sydney?" Artis asked in a fake concerned voice.  
  
"Alive. Which is more than you'll be if you touch her again." Vaughn said tightly.  
  
Artis laughed, a bitter sound. "You think you can beat me?"  
  
"I don't know. But I'm betting her father can." Vaughn said, watching his reaction. Artis had visibly paled at the mention of Jack Bristow. INow, that was interesting,/I Vaughn thought.  
  
Vaughn paused for moment to let his words sink in, then continued in a business like voice, giving no indication of what he was feeling.  
  
"Mr. Artis, you have information that we need. In return, we will let you go free. We will not prosecute you for the abduction of Agent Bristow." I And as soon as you leave the country, you'll be killed.IVaughn thought. His voice was cold and impersonal, but still polite. "If you don't tell us, then. well, I think you know what will happen to you."  
  
He sat back in his chair to watch Artis' reaction. The guard knocked on the window, signaling that Vaughn had five minutes left.  
  
"It 's up to you, Mr. Artis. Either you tell us where the sensor is and why you wanted it, in which case, we let you go. Or you can choose not to tell us, and you will be prosecuted. You may even face the death sentience."  
  
Artis still said nothing. He stared at his hands as if he's never seen them before. Vaughn stood and tucked his chair neatly under the table.  
  
"I'll leave you to think about it." He said as he walked past and out of the room. 


	16. Dart

Vaughn saw movement in the doorway and looked up just in time to see a man turn and walk out of the room. He had a blowgun in his hand. He looked down, his eyes desperately searching Syd for the dart. It was lodged in her back, just below her shoulder blade.  
  
He reached down and yanked it free, causing blood to run from the wound. He felt for a pulse at her neck, and was greatly relieved to feel a weak one. When he kissed her, his lips came back bloody. He grabbed the buzzer from where it was laying on the table by the bed and pressed down hard on it. Within seconds, a team of doctors and nurses where working on Syd.  
  
Feeling like he was getting in the way, he gave the dart to a nurse, along with a short description of what had happened. The nurse took both from him without a word, and slipped the dart into a baggie.  
  
He walked out of the room, knowing there was nothing he could do but wait. His mind kept flashing pictures of Syd, so he decided to call White. He sighed heavily as he found a phone and dialed a familiar number. He had been meaning to get a message to Jack that his daughter had been found, but couldn't. He didn't know where Jack was.  
  
White picked up on the first ring.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Vaughn here, sir. We. Sy. Agent Bristow has been attacked."  
  
"Attacked? Where?" White asked, traces of anger evident in his voice.  
  
"In her hospital room, sir. Some one shot her with a dart gun."  
  
"Do we know what was in the dart?"  
  
"No, sir. Not yet. They're still working on it."  
  
"How could this happen? She's in a CIA run hospital!" Someone was going to be in big trouble.  
  
White hated bad news and this news was worst than most. Not only had one of his top double agents been kidnapped and tortured, but she'd also been targeted in her hospital room - in a CIA run hospital, none the less- by an unknown assailant.  
  
Vaughn sighed again, and rubbed his hand across his face. He was having a hard time keeping up with what was going on.  
  
"Call me back when you find out anything." White said in a slightly tired voice. "I've already ordered a search of the hospital and grounds, but I don't expect it will do an good."  
  
"Yes sir," Vaughn said, "Sir? Peter Fenwick is dead. I just found out this morning. Looks like he killed himself." He added  
  
"Thank you Agent Vaughn." White said before he put the phone down.  
  
Vaughn wandered back in the general direction of Sydney's room, hoping for any news. 


	17. Happy

When I heard that Syd had been rescued, I was so happy. My daughter was safe. Well, as safe as any double agent can ever be. They also told me her new alias, which is Chloe Hewlett, but it's not going to last for long. Once she gets back to the states, SD-6 will have her under constant surveillance.  
  
So, she's still not free of them. She'll have to go back to work for them. Back to working as a double agent again. Most people think that I'm incorrigible, a hardened agent who cares little what other people think and do. That's not true. I care a great deal what my daughter thinks. I just try- and succeed, most of the time- not to let my feelings show. I've been doing it that long, it's become part of me.  
  
I let my daughter, the only person I truly care for now, join SD-6. True, I didn't know until she'd joined and had finished her training, but I could have warned her about their true nature when I found out what her new job was. Letting her be captured on a mission again was an unconscionable thing to do.  
  
Without sounding melodramatic, I could have protected her much better. I pushed her away as a teenager, because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought that it would keep her safe. But in retrospect, it turned out to be the wrong thing to do. By pushing her away, I pushed her into the arms of the enemies.  
  
My daughter is a paradox to me. She can beat a man twice her size in any fight, but she's also vulnerable. She gets close to people. And if they are killed or hurt, it hurts her. That hurt, in turn, finds its way back to me. Some days, she comes into meetings and she's injured. A bruise here, a cut there. It's never much, but it's enough for me to worry about her. A few times, she's looked bruised on the inside.  
  
Up until now, I've never said anything, confident that Sydney is strong enough to cope with. well, the life she now has to lead. But, when she comes back, I intend to have a good long talk to her. After all, it's the least I can do 


	18. Messeges

She laid in the dark, on the hard hospital bed, sobbing quietly to herself. The hot salty tears stung her eyes, but she had no control over them. Despite the warmth in the room, she shivered violently as she thought over what had happened. She'd been. hurt before, but this time was much worse. Not the physical hurt- that would heal soon enough, leaving only scars to remind her. It was the mental scars that she'd had problems with. She could deal with the physical ones.  
  
Before, when she'd been tortured, there had always been a clear reason for it. She'd known why it was happening. But this time, she hadn't had any information to give her captors. There was nothing she could tell Artis, except the truth, which he'd so blatantly ignored. She'd been helpless and he had taken advantage of that.  
  
She clamped her eyes shut and breathed deeply for a few minutes, getting her feelings back under control. She'd been trained to keep her feelings under complete control at all times, but that training wasn't helping her now. She felt so different from the tough young woman who'd entered that warehouse. She'd left it as a shadow of herself. She didn't know how to go back to her old self.  
  
There were only two people in the world that could make her feel safe again. Her father and Vaughn, people she trusted implicitly. People that had shown her, time and time again that they would risk their lives for her. Her father, on occasion, had let her down before, but she still loved him like she had when she was a child. She didn't know where her father was, so Vaughn was her only choice. She picked up the buzzer and rang for a nurse.  
  
Knowing that confronting her feelings was the best was to deal with them, she'd come to an unconscious decision to talk to Vaughn. Originally, she'd just wanted to see him, as a sort of security blanket. He understood her, in a way most other people didn't.  
  
Within twenty minutes of the nurse phoning him, Vaughn was in her hospital room. He took her hands as he knelt down in front of her. She'd moved to sit in the only chair in the room, where she could look out over the Moscow skyline. Her feet where tucked under her because of the chill in the air. It was breath taking in the dark, but they weren't interested in the view.  
  
"You said you wanted to talk to me?" he asked gently, trying to make eye contact with her. For some reason, she was avoiding his eyes. She looked at her hands as if she'd never seen them before. He looked at her carefully. Her eyes where red and bloodshot. She must have been crying, but she didn't look upset, just tired. No, he thought that's not tiredness, it's what? Regret? Sorrow? Grief?  
  
She bit her lip, almost drawing blood. As soon as she started talking about the kidnapping, she was back in that damp, cold room. Her mind recalled every detail with amazing clarity, from the cracks in the walls to the placement to the windows. She started coughing and he passed her a bottle of water from the tiny refrigerator behind him, which she drank quickly.  
  
He watched as she shredded the label on her bottle, then took the plastic bottle from her to stop her demolishing that. She looked pensive, and when she started talking, he couldn't stop himself feeling sorry for her. Her face was set and blank, as if she wasn't really there.  
  
"You'd think that a person would be able to get used to pain. To block it out. Well, you don't. It builds, gradually building to the point where you can't take it anymore." She said in a monotone, then paused and rubbed her hand over her face. "Then you pass out. When you come round, you know that it's all gonna happen again. It makes you wish for death. I know I did."  
  
"Oh, honey. I'm so, so sorry." He said. His words sounded inadequate, even to himself, but he was at a loss for what to say.  
  
"He hurt me, you know. He had a knife that he cut me with." She said almost dreamily. "Fenwick was there. He was working with them."  
  
"He.he's dead now, Syd. He killed himself."  
  
"I don't blame him. I don't blame you, either. It's not your fault."  
  
She stopped for a moment, and he thought that she wasn't going to continue, but then she described the fight between her and Artis. By the time she'd finished talking, there where little bleeding wounds on her palms from her nails.  
  
"Vaughn?" she asked, suddenly focused.  
  
"Yes?" he answered  
  
"Do you trust me?" she asked  
  
"With my life." He replied instantly.  
  
"Then trust me when I say that we have to take SD-6 down now. Yes, I'm off their radar for now, but as soon as I get back to the states, they're gonna know."  
  
"They think that you're dead, Syd. We have an alias set up for you."  
  
"Yes, I know, but how long will that last once I'm home? Not very long. Someone will see me, and it'll get back to them." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Vaughn, we have to do this, and we have to do it now. It's our best shot at destroying them for ever!"  
  
"I know honey, but it's not that easy."  
  
"I could be." She said simply.  
  
When Vaughn came out of the room, there where tears in his eyes for her. He'd only left Syd once she had fallen into a deep sleep, aided by a strong sedative her doctor had given her. He'd finally heard the full story of her kidnapping, and what he'd heard had sickened him.  
  
The feeling had nothing to do with Syd- she could never sicken him. She had his full support, if she would take it. Artis was the one who had sickened him. He was furious at Artis for hurting Syd. Vaughn was also damn sure that he was going to pay for what he'd done.  
  
Once he reached his rental car, he drove aimlessly around the city. It was beautiful at three in the morning, but he barely noticed. He'd been awake for 36 hours straight, but he couldn't sleep knowing that Syd was in such pain. He drove back to his hotel, parked the car and walked slowly up to his room. He was going to spend anther long night pacing his room. There wasn't a damn thing he could do until morning. 


	19. Questions

The drug in the dart had been a painful, fast acting toxin, similar in many ways to snake venom, except for the fact that it was manufactured in a laboratory. The doctors, in desperation, had given her both snake and spider anti-toxin, and luckily, they had worked. Vaughn had been called into a meeting to discuss how someone had managed to enter a CIA-run hospital and dart her with a toxin-laden dart.  
  
Another, strange effect of the drug was to make her incredibly thirsty. She'd drank eight glasses of water in just over two hours. She sat up slowly in bed and poured herself another glass of water from the jug on the table next to her bed. The giraffe that Vaughn had bought her was there, along with the pile of magazines he'd brought her. Most of them where unread. Her white paper hospital bracelet slipped down as she picked the glass up. She pushed it back up with her other hand. Her wrist was still in a cast, but she could use her hand well enough. After all, it wasn't the first time she'd had a broken wrist. She put the glass back onto the table and switched off the light.  
  
Endless questions swirled round her mind. Who was the man who'd darted her? Why had he done it? Who was he working for? And why did they want her dead? Nobody could answer the questions for her, but they where looking for the answers. That was all she wanted from anyone.  
  
She laid in the dark, on the hard hospital bed, sobbing quietly to herself. The tears had come suddenly, shocking her with their intensity. The sobs wracked her body. She didn't know how much more she could cry. The hot salty tears stung her eyes, but she had no control over them. Despite the warmth in the room, she shivered violently as she thought over what had happened. She'd been. hurt before, but this time was much worse. Not the physical hurt- that would heal soon enough, leaving only scars to remind her. It was the mental scars that she'd had problems with. She could deal with the physical ones.  
  
Before, when she'd been tortured, there had always been a clear reason for it. She'd known why it was happening. But this time, she hadn't had any information to give her captors. There was nothing she could tell Artis, except the truth, which he'd so blatantly ignored. She'd been helpless and he had taken advantage of that.  
  
She clamped her eyes shut and breathed deeply for a few minutes, getting her feelings back under control. She'd been trained to keep her feelings under complete control at all times, but that training wasn't helping her now. She felt so different from the tough young woman who'd entered that warehouse. She'd left it as a shadow of herself. She didn't know how to go back to her old self.  
  
There were only two people in the world that could make her feel safe again. Her father and Vaughn, people she trusted implicitly. People that had shown her, time and time again that they would risk their lives for her. Her father, on occasion, had let her down before, but she still loved him like she had when she was a child. She didn't know where her father was, so Vaughn was her only choice. She picked up the buzzer and rang for a nurse.  
  
Knowing that confronting her feelings was the best was to deal with them, she'd come to an unconscious decision to talk to Vaughn. Originally, she'd just wanted to see him, as a sort of security blanket. He understood her, in a way most other people didn't.  
  
Within twenty minutes of the nurse phoning him, Vaughn was in her hospital room. He took her hands as he knelt down in front of her, careful to avoid touching her injured fingers. She couldn't help flinching slightly as his skin made contact with hers and knew that it hurt Vaughn. She'd moved to sit in the only chair in the room, where she could look out over the Moscow skyline. Her feet where tucked under her because of the chill in the air. It was breath taking in the dark, but they weren't interested in the view.  
  
"You said you wanted to talk to me?" he asked gently, trying to make eye contact with her. For some reason, she was avoiding his eyes. She looked at her hands as if she'd never seen them before. He looked at her carefully. Her eyes where red and bloodshot. She must have been crying, but she didn't look upset, just tired. No, he thought that's not tiredness, it's what? Regret? Sorrow? Grief? He didn't know what she was feeling.  
  
She bit her lip, almost drawing blood. As soon as she started talking about the kidnapping, she was back in that damp, cold room. Her mind recalled every detail with amazing clarity, from the cracks in the walls to the placement to the windows. She started coughing and he passed her a bottle of water from the tiny refrigerator behind him, which she drank quickly.  
  
He watched as she shredded the label on her bottle, then took the plastic bottle from her to stop her demolishing that. She looked pensive, and when she started talking, he couldn't stop himself feeling sorry for her. Her face was set and blank, as if she wasn't really there.  
  
"You'd think that a person would be able to get used to pain. To block it out. Well, you don't. It builds, gradually building to the point where you can't take it anymore." She said in a monotone, then paused and rubbed her hand over her face. "Then you pass out. When you come round, you know that it's all gonna happen again. It makes you wish for death. I know I did."  
  
"Oh, honey. I'm so, so sorry." He said. His words sounded inadequate, even to himself, but he was at a loss for what to say.  
  
"He hurt me, you know. He had a knife that he cut me with." She said almost dreamily. "Fenwick was there. He was working with them."  
  
"He.he's dead now, Syd. He killed himself."  
  
"I don't blame him. I don't blame you, either. It's not your fault."  
  
She stopped for a moment, and he thought that she wasn't going to continue, but then she described the fight between her and Artis. By the time she'd finished talking, there where little bleeding wounds on her palms from her nails.  
  
"Vaughn?" she asked, suddenly focused.  
  
"Yes?" he answered  
  
"Do you trust me?" she asked  
  
"With my life." He replied instantly.  
  
"Then trust me when I say that we have to take SD-6 down now. Yes, I'm off their radar for now, but as soon as I get back to the states, they're gonna know that I'm alive."  
  
"They think that you're dead, Syd. We have an alias set up for you."  
  
"Yes, I know, but how long will that last once I'm home? Not very long. Someone will see me, and it'll get back to them." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Vaughn, we have to do this, and we have to do it now. It's our best shot at destroying them for ever!"  
  
"I know honey, but it's not that easy."  
  
"I could be." She said simply.  
  
When Vaughn came out of the room, there where tears in his eyes for her. He'd only left Syd once she had fallen into a deep sleep, aided by a strong sedative her doctor had given her. He'd finally heard the full story of her kidnapping, and what he'd heard had sickened him.  
  
The feeling had nothing to do with Syd- she could never sicken him. She had his full support, if she would take it. Artis was the one who had sickened him. He was furious at Artis for hurting Syd. Vaughn was also damn sure that he was going to pay for what he'd done.  
  
Once he reached his rental car, he drove aimlessly around the city. It was beautiful at three in the morning, but he barely noticed. He'd been awake for 36 hours straight, but he couldn't sleep knowing that Syd was in such pain. He drove back to his hotel, parked the car and walked slowly up to his room. He was going to spend anther long night pacing his room. There wasn't a damn thing he could do until morning. 


	20. Homecoming

White arrived in Moscow early the next morning, looking jet-lagged and pissed off. He'd phoned Vaughn from the airport to let the team know that he'd arrived and would meet them at the hospital the early next morning. He booked himself into the same hotel as Vaughn and spent a good hour e- mailing his contacts in Russia, trying to find out anything he could about Artis.  
  
True to his word, White had the team fully briefed and ready to go by 9.30. Sydney, Vaughn and another two agents where flying back to the states as soon as they could, on a military plane. The rest of the team, including White where staying in Moscow to try and find out how someone had managed to enter the hospital and dart Syd. They would also try to find out anything they could about Artis.  
  
Syd, Vaughn and the other two agents had a short meeting with White. Syd went first. Vaughn waited anxiously outside, wishing he knew what was being said inside the room. He would have paced, but the short hallway was much too full for him to pace. The meeting was being held in one of the hospital's offices. It had been swept for bugs and found to be clean.  
  
"How are you feeling, Agent Bristow?" White asked as she entered the room and sat down across from him. She noticed the thick gray folder on the desk in front of him.  
  
"Fine, thank you. I just wish I knew why this whole thing happened." She said feeling slightly uncomfortable being alone in a room with White. She liked him. it just felt strange after what had happened.  
  
"Yes, well, we'll be looking into that. As soon as we know anything, you'll know." He said crisply, but with a smile that took the harshness out of his words.  
  
"Thank you." She said and meant it. She hoped White could tell that her words were sincere.  
  
"We need." White changed his mind and started the sentence again. "Do you feel up to talking about the abduction?" He would have normally just asked, instead of dancing around the issue, but something had warned him against it this time.  
  
"Yes." She said instantly. "But I want Vaughn in here when I do. He deserves to hear the full story. " She added. He nodded, rose and crossed the room in a few long strides. He disappeared outside the door for a moment, then came back in with Vaughn. She glanced at Vaughn with a quick, small smile in acknowledgement of his presence. Vaughn returned the smile and was tempted to wink. Only the seriousness of the meeting stopped him.  
  
"Before we start, I have a question for you." White said "Do you know where the sensor is?" he asked  
  
"Fenwick had it." She replied instantly  
  
"Are you sure? We didn't find it on his body." Vaughn said. He didn't doubt her, but he had to make sure that it was right.  
  
"Of course I'm sure. I gave it to him in the back of the van." She said, slightly testily. Fragments of the events keep coming back to her. She could remember almost twice as much about the abduction as she first could.  
  
"I'd already meet up with Fenwick, been inside the building and retrieved the sensor before I was." she hesitated for a moment before she forced the word out "..captured."  
  
White and Vaughn exchanged glances. "That's not what Fenwick told us. He said that you hadn't arrived at the meeting point."  
  
"Oh, God." She said, suddenly realising the truth. "Oh, God."  
  
"What?" the two men asked in unison. They hadn't made the connection.  
  
"He was working with them." She said in a tight voice.  
  
Everyone in the room paled at her words. They'd all been betrayed by Peter Fenwick, on many levels.  
  
"My God. I wonder how much about the mission he told them." White was the first to find his voice. "The whole of the CIA is at risk."  
  
"Do you think Artis knows where the sensor is?" Sydney asked  
  
"I'd think so." Vaughn answered her question. He held her gaze for a second too long before they both looked away. He was proud that she'd realized what had happened, and quickly too.  
  
"Okay, here's what's going to happen." White said, "Agent Vaughn, you and Agent Bristow will fly back to LA."  
  
"Okay, sir."  
  
"Once you're there, I want you to find out as much about Fenwick as you can. Pull his file if you need to. Find out how he was pulled into this."  
  
"What should I do, sir?" Syd asked  
  
"I want you to lay low. You can help Agent Vaughn, but I don't want SD-6 to know that you're still alive."  
  
"Fine, sir." She said. "When do we leave?"  
  
"Tonight." 


	21. Suprise

The flight back to the states on an old, uncomfortable military plane was long and more arduous than Sydney would care to admit, even to herself. Although she didn't like to admit it to anyone, she was still very weak. She didn't like to feel weak. When they finally got off the plane at LA airport, she was forced to let Vaughn help her to the waiting car.  
  
They were taken from the airport to another CIA run hospital, were Sydney was thoroughly checked over be a team of concerned doctors. The flight had taken its toll on Vaughn to. He had dark circles under his tired eyes. She looked worse, just. She was pale and shaking. After three long, tiring hours, she was finally allowed to leave, even though she had an armful of tablets to take with her.  
  
It was dark when she left the hospital, and had started to rain quite heavily. The wind had also taken on a chill. Syd shivered as Vaughn held open the glass hospital door for her. She was wearing a pair of borrowed jeans and a thick wool jumper, but somehow, she still felt cold. She walked through the door and smiled her thanks to Vaughn. He smiled back ruefully, and took the bag full of medicines she was carrying.  
  
He lead the way to the car, which was parked a short distance away from the exit, it's powerful engine idling. Again, he opened the door for her. She slid into the warm, leather scented car and closed the door behind her with a murmured word of thanks. Vaughn got into the front, next to the driver. He half turned so that he could look at her.  
  
"Before we go to the safe house, we have to make a short stop. Is that okay?" he said. From the way he said it, and the strange little smile on his face, she knew it was more than just a quick stop, but she couldn't figure out what else it could be.  
  
She smiled tiredly. "Yeah, that's fine. Just as long as its not another hospital."  
  
"I promise you, it's not a hospital. In fact, I think you'll quite enjoy this." He turned back round, leaving her trying to figure out the meaning of his words.  
  
The car pulled smoothly away from the curb. She relaxed, knowing that she was safe. It was a nice feeling. In the front, the two men talked to each other. After a few minutes of listening to hockey talk, she tuned them out. Before the car had left the hospital grounds, she was asleep. She woke with a start as the car stopped. She'd forgotten all about the stop.  
  
"Vaughn? What's wrong?" she asked  
  
"Nothing. Remember I told you we had to make a stop?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, this is it."  
  
"Okay." She said and got out of the car, shutting the door quietly behind her with her good hand. She followed Vaughn as he led the way into a refuse processing plant. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of burnt plastic, but didn't say anything.  
  
The huge room was dimly lit by a few low-wattage bulbs, scattered at irregular intervals around the dirty walls. For a second, she felt like she was still in the were-house in Moscow. She froze just inside the door. Her breath came fast and she shook slightly. She knew that it wasn't the same place, but it was so similar that she couldn't help feeling trapped.  
  
Vaughn turned to look at her. "Shit." He said, with a glance at the other agent. I told them not to use this place, but do they listen? No. He thought disgusted by the agency's thoughtlessness.  
  
"Syd?" he said as he got closer to her. He could see that she was very pale and shaking slightly. "Syd, come on. It's okay. It's not the same place. Nothing here will hurt you, okay?"  
  
She blindly reached out and took his hands. "Promise that you won't leave me?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
"I promise." He said. "I promise." He said, turning and leading her round a stacked pile of shipping containers. In the small area surrounded by the packing cases, there was a table and two chairs. There was also a large canteen of water on the table.  
  
Syd barely noticed any of that. Her attention had been caught be a shadowy man standing at the back of the room.  
  
She took two steps away from Vaughn, and said one word  
  
"Dad?" 


	22. Stalemate

White sighed and got up from the wooden chair that he was sitting on to pace the small room. It screeched against the rough concrete floor as he stood up. He glared at Artis as he passed, but said nothing to the larger man. They'd been in the interview room for almost thirty minutes now, and White had got nothing out of Artis, only a few sarcastic remarks. He was rapidly running out of patience. He stopped pacing suddenly and sat down heavily in the chair, leaning forward on the table.  
  
"Okay," he said at last, when he was feeling a little calmer, "What do you want?" there had to be something he could use to get the man talking. So far, they'd gotten nothing but sarcastic remarks and veiled threats out of him.  
  
"I want to talk to Sydney Bristow. Alone. I'll tell her everything she needs to know to close this file." Artis said it like it was his divine right to speak to the person who he'd ruthlessly tortured.  
  
Yeah, right, White thought, and pig'll fly. He closed his eyes and wiped a weary hand over his face.  
  
Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply said, "is that your only condition?"  
  
Artis nodded once and said slowly "Yes. That is it."  
  
"In return for us letting you talk to Agent Bristow, will you tell us where the sensor is located?" White asked optimistically.  
  
"No." Artis said shortly. He leaned back on the chair, which squeaked alarmingly. White had a sudden vision of the chair collapsing and had to fight to stop himself laughing out load at the image that had created in his head.  
  
"Then you're not getting to talk to her." White said. He felt like a spiteful kid, but he knew how to play the game. And he was determined to win. He sighed slightly, and then asked "Why not?"  
  
"Because I do not know where the sensor is. I never had it." Artis offered.  
  
"Then who the hell did?" White snapped, losing his cool.  
  
"Peter Fenwick." Artis stated simply.  
  
"And you know this how?" White asked skeptically. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. A discreet look at his silver watch told him that they'd been in the interview room for almost forty-fire minutes. He got up and poured himself a cup of lukewarm black coffee from the jug on a side table, adding cream and sugar to cut the taste.  
  
"I saw him take it." Artis said, but didn't elaborate any further.  
  
"When did you see him take the sensor?" white asked  
  
Artis remained silent, refusing to speak. White repeated the question a little more loudly and Artis said  
  
"I heard you the first time. I'm just not going to answer until I get to speak to Sydney Bristow."  
  
White stared at him as if he'd just suddenly sprouted another two heads, but signaled to the guards to take him back to his cell. As they passed, White said to Artis in a dark voice,  
  
"I'll see what I can do." 


	23. Truth

You know, they say that the most dangerous person is one with nothing left to lose. Well, SD-6 tried to make me that person. They tried to strip me of everything. My freedom, my personal life, my friends, my fiancé. the list goes on and on. Hell, they even tried to take my identity away from me.  
  
So, thanks to SD-6 and Salone, I have nothing left to lose, except the three most important things in my life. My father, Vaughn and my friends. And if there's one thing I'm not prepared to lose, it's them. I don't think I could live without them. You call it an excess of love for them or you can call it cowardice, but I can't imagine a future without them. I don't think that I want to live without them.  
  
I want out of this life that I'm forced to lead so much sometimes I can feel it. I know that I'm good at what I do, but that's not the point. I know I've realized that I want out before, but I can't think of anything else that I want more. I know that we can do it, that we can take down SD-6 with a little help from the CIA. After all, it's what we - my father, Vaughn and myself are trained for.  
  
The only problem is, I haven't come up with a single plausible plan. Oh, I've thought of ways and plans that might work, but they're much too risky to try. I'm not willing or able to risk my father and Vaughn's lives. On top of that risk, there's the risk of exposing my father and myself as double agents which would have fatal consequences for both of us. So no, for now, I have to just try not to crack. Because there's nothing else I can do.  
  
The torture in Moscow has changed my. I'm no longer the same woman who boarded that plane to Russia. I'm. colder now, more willing to kill the bastards who left me there to go through that. I joined SD-6 out of loyalty to my country. As is turns out, I've been betraying them on every mission I've worked. When I first joined, I thought that I was working for the good guys. I couldn't think of a worse group of people to work for. They lie to all of their employees. They kill innocents without a second thought. And I'm determined to stop them from ruining anymore lives. 


	24. Memories

As if by mutual consent, they both crossed the room to the battered table where they sat down, Jack pulling out a chair for Syd. He'd noticed that she seemed to be moving and standing stiffly, but hadn't said anything, knowing that she would only deny it. Vaughn also sat down with them at the table. The other agent stood next to the door, partly out of respect for their privacy, partly to warn them if anyone approached the building.  
  
Syd had told Vaughn what she could remember that night in Moscow, but she'd also told him that she was remembering more and more all of the time. She'd been held for almost a week, and she'd barely remembered two days worth of her time there. The human mind is a wonderful thing at repressing painful or shocking memories. Before any of the men could speak, Syd started talking.  
  
"They held my head under water." She said, "the water was freezing. They'd hold me under just long enough for me to black out, then pull me back out. It went on and on. I thought it was never going to end." She said quickly.  
  
The pain of her face was obvious to both men. Vaughn watched as Jack swallowed. Jack's face was still neutral, but if you knew where to look and what to look for, you could see that he was barely suppressing his anger at the men who'd done this to his only child. Vaughn turned his attention to Sydney's face, seeing the hurt there. He wished that there were something he could do to make the memories easier for her to bare.  
  
"Syd? Are you sure you want to do this?" Jack asked. She just nodded quickly and continued talking. She watched her hands instead of meeting the men's gaze. She was pale, but composed, for the time being. She didn't want to see their reactions.  
  
"The worst thing was the nights- I. they told me that they'd killed you because I wouldn't talk. I thought that both of you were dead." She admitted painfully "I felt like I was so alone. I've never felt so alone."  
  
Jack glanced purposely at Vaughn, asking for help. This was his territory. Her handler managed to look both harried and exhausted. He paused in his pacing long enough to rub a hand over his face, realizing that he needed to shave.  
  
"Syd, you're never alone. You've always got your Dad and I. You know that, don't you?" Vaughn asked gently, trying not to pressure her.  
  
She nodded without lifting her head. A single drop of water splashed on the table's scared surface. Both men watched as she raised a hand and wiped her face without looking up. "I know. Thank you." She said painfully. She normally never really cried, but now that was all she seemed to do. Her eyes were sore and red from the tears she'd shed over the last few days.  
  
"It's okay." Vaughn gently said, as Jack stood and put a supportive hand on to his daughter's too-thin arm. She covered it with one of her own, which was dwarfed by her father's. They stayed that way for a long time before anyone moved. 


	25. Nightmares

The ride to the CIA owned safe house was mercifully short, lasting only about fifteen minutes. Between themselves, they'd decided that Sydney would have the only bed, and that Vaughn, who was on a week's leave, would take the couch. When they arrived at the safe house, she was just about awake enough to walk unaided into the entrance way. The safe house was cleverly hidden inside an apartment block. It couldn't be seen from the outside.  
  
She's been fine until Vaughn had tried to take her heavy coat from her to hang in the closet. She'd backed up until she was pressed against the wall and frozen until Vaughn had backed off. As Vaughn had touched her arm, a memory of Artis had flashed through her mind. Every time she closed her eyes it was there. He'd kissed her, hard and fast, brutally bruising the soft flesh of her lips. Syd shuddered violently, forcing the memories away. She sat down on the huge leather couch that almost filled one end of the den.  
  
When Vaughn came back from the kitchen, carrying a cup of coffee, a few minutes later, she was fast asleep. Even in her sleep she was troubled, he noticed, as she tossed and turned, fighting dreams that she didn't want to have. She mumbled something before rolling over. He crossed the room and kissed her gently on the forehead before sitting down on the edge of the couch. He brushed a stray lock of damp hair off her face. The room was cold but had no heating, so he took of his suit jacket and laid it over her. She wore no make-up, which made her look young and surprisingly vulnerable.  
  
He didn't blame her for reacting the way she had, but it had still hurt to think that she didn't completely trust him. He would never intentionally hurt her in any way. After first making sure that Syd was still sleeping as peacefully as she was going to, he made his way back to the kitchen to make them both some food. They hadn't eaten all day and he, at least, was starving. In the small but well stocked kitchen that was at the back of the house, he found just what he wanted- pancake mix, fresh fruit and maple syrup. Just as he was about to put the first batch of pancakes on the stove to cook, he heard a scream from the den. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to bring herself to touch Vaughn. She felt dirty and used. Violated by Artis's actions.  
  
All thoughts of food temporally forgotten, he raced into the den to see Syd in the throes of a nightmare. She screamed once and sat up, breathing heavily. Her eyes darted around the darkened room, looking for enemies waiting to attack.  
  
"Hey, It's okay. It's okay. It was only a bad dream." Vaughn said, taking hold of her hands. She gripped his hand so hard, he flinched. She loosened her grip, apologising with her eyes. She turned and clung to him. He stoked her damp hair and murmured words of comfort as she gradually calmed down.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked gently. When she didn't answer, he asked, "Is there anything I can do?" she shook her head against his shoulder. "Are you sure?" he asked  
  
"No. Just stay with me, please? Don't leave me." There was fear and exhaustion in her voice. He hated to see her so vulnerable, so unsure of herself.  
  
  
  
"You're safe now." he said  
  
"I don't think I'll ever be safe again." she said it as a statement of fact.  
  
Her hands trembled as she picked up his coffee cup and sipped the rapidly cooling coffee as if it was a life line.  
  
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Vaughn asked gently, already half knowing what her answer would be.  
  
"Yeah, I think it'd help." She said, surprising him.  
  
"Okay, then, but first I think we need dome food." Vaughn said and lead the way to the kitchen. 


	26. Routine

Jack sat at his computer, typing up a mission report. He was about half way through and already the report was 15 pages long. It had been a hard mission. He'd been sent to Borneo to recover a new prototype weapon. His mind had been elsewhere. Knowing that Syd had been in trouble and not being able to help her had been, well, torture. He'd nearly gotten himself killed through sheer carelessness.  
  
He took a sip of the herbal tea he'd so recently started drinking, and pulled a slight face at the bland taste. It wasn't bad, but he'd prefer coffee any day. Only the bad news that he'd received from his doctor the week before had made him cut down his caffeine intake. He'd been felling under the weather for a few weeks, but had put it down to stress. He'd found out otherwise at his annual check-up.  
  
He took another sip of the lemon and ginger drink and finished the section of the report that he was working on, then save the large file to be printed out the next morning. He glanced at the blue digital desk clock that Syd had bought him for his birthday and was surprised to see that it was already 23:46. He shut the computer down and tidied the desk up before slowly making his way to the bathroom, where he showered and brushed his teeth. He rinsed the cup that he'd been drinking out of and left it to drain. He checked that both the front and back doors were locked, knowing all the time that if someone wanted to be in, they would, regardless of if the doors were locked.  
  
After watching a little of the news, most of which he already knew from earlier in the day, he started to feel tired. He made his way up to his bedroom, where he set his alarm clock for 6:30 the next morning. He laid out his clothes for the next day, a dark grey suit, mid blue tie covered in tiny dark blue dots and a plain white shirt. His shoes were placed neatly under the wicker chair that stood in the corner of the large, airy room.  
  
He took of his silk robe and slippers and got into bed, where he lay for a minute without moving, seeing which part of his body hurt the most. Over the years he'd been an agent, he'd been hurt many times. He'd developed the routine of checking his body each night when he'd been captured once for a month and hadn't been able to drop it since.  
  
He had no unusual aches and pains that night, only the ones that he usually had at the end of a busy day. He was starting to wonder if he was getting too old to be a field agent, but didn't like to admit the fact to any one. He reached out and switched the cream lamp off with a satisfying click. Within minutes of switching the lamp off, he was asleep. 


	27. Lonely

Syd rolled over in the unfamiliar bed and watched the green numbers on the digital clock turn from 01:59 to 02:00. She was still at the safe-house, but Vaughn had been called back to work because of some kind of emergency there. He hadn't told her any of the details, except to reassure her that it had nothing to do with her or her father. Suddenly feeling lonely, she wished she could safely call Vaughn at work.  
  
Instead, she dialled the number she had so recently memorised. Her tired sounding father answered on the third ring.  
  
"Dad? Did I wake you?" she asked "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called at this time of night."  
  
"Syd? Is something wrong?" he asked immediately. His voice was filled with concern.  
  
"No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to talk to you." She said quickly before he could start worrying too much. She fumbled around in the dark for a minute before she found the lamp. She switched it on and sat squinting in the light until her eyes adjusted.  
  
He was silent for a moment, then he said "I've been worried about you." Sometimes, she thought that he could read her mind. She smiled at the thought.  
  
"You don't have to worry about me." She said, a little more sharply than she'd intended to.  
  
"I know, but I still do." He sighed heavily. "See you at the house tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah. I. goodnight Dad." Sydney said. She had been about to say that she missed him, but hadn't been able to say the words.  
  
"Goodnight, Syd." He said and put the phone down with a quiet click. She stared at the quiet phone for a moment before she put it back and switched the light off. This long, lonely night had to end sometime, she thought.  
  
Knowing that she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, she got out of the warm bad and went to the kitchen to make herself a drink. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she opened the fridge to see what there was left to eat. She found a can of peaches and took them out. She opened and drained them, then put half of them into a dish, which was put back into the fridge. She kept the rest out to eat. On the kitchen table was a note from Vaughn. She smiled as she picked it up. It said:  
  
Sleep well, Syd! If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me! See you in the morning. Oh, and by the way, you're cooking breakfast tomorrow- all I con do is pancakes! Love Vaughn.  
  
The kettle boiled and she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, which she carried through to the den, along with the bowl of peaches. She set them down on the low table in the center of the room while she found a throw blanket in one of the cupboards. She settled down on the big couch with the remote control. After flicking through at least twenty channels, she found a program worth watching. It was a movie about a young deer that she'd seen a hundred times before, but she liked it. When the film finished, some 52 minutes later, she went back up to bed, leaving her bowl and cup in the dishwasher for the morning. 


	28. Call

Vaughn walked into the safe house carrying two brown paper bags full of groceries and two bottles of wine, one white and one red. He hadn't known which Syd preferred, so he'd got one of each. The same went for food- he'd simply wandered through the rows, picking up items at random. He'd been working for 12 straight hours and just wanted to see Syd and then sleep for 10 straight hours. In that order. He set it down on the large kitchen table and walked quickly through the apartment, looking for Syd. He found her in the bedroom, looking at the day's newspaper. The agent in him noted that she was reading the society pages.  
  
"Hi." She said, eyeing him carefully "rough night at work?" she asked "You could say that." He answered wearily, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. Syd moved over on the bed, making space for him to sit down. He accepted with a ghost of a smile.  
  
"So, what happened that they had to drag you in at midnight?" she said, folding the newspaper in half and leaning over to drop it to the floor. He saw her wince in pain as she sat up, but didn't question her. If she wanted to tell him if something was wrong, she would.  
  
"Oh, not much. Except that one of our senior agents dies last night in a car crash." He said heavily. He hadn't known the agent personally, but knew of him. He'd been a good field agent.  
  
"Was it an accident?" Syd asked instantly. She knew how easily car crashes could be set up.  
  
"That's what we're trying to find out." Vaughn said. "I got some groceries on my way here. I didn't know what you liked. So I just got some basics. Milk, bread, eggs, bacon, chocolate.." He never finished his sentence. Syd got the impression that he was teasing her slightly, so she smacked him playfully on the arm. He pulled her arm gently, sending her sprawling across his lap. Their faces where just inches apart. Vaughn lowered his head slightly as she closed her eyes, hoping that he'd kiss her.  
  
The phone on the bedside table rang shrilly, shattering the cosy atmosphere that had been building. The two agents sprang apart like they'd been shocked. She reached over and picked it up, then handed the receiver to Vaughn without a word. As he took the phone, she left to room, shutting the door firmly behind her.  
  
When Vaughn came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, his face was ashen. He found Syd in the kitchen, drinking a cup of strong black coffee from a thick white cup. A little steam rose from the surface of the drink. Vaughn noticed that the groceries had been put away. He looked at her as he sat down and she looked away from him, studying her slowly re-growing nails.  
  
"Syd." he began awkwardly. "That was White on the phone."  
  
"What does he want?" she asked tiredly.  
  
"He wants you to go back to Russia. Back to Moscow." Vaughn said "Artis will only talk to you." He reached out his hand to touch her arm, but she pulled away, refusing to accept the comforting gesture. "No. Vaughn, I can't." she said desperately. "It'll. I can't." she had gone deadly pale and was shaking slightly. She spilled some coffee onto the table as she put the cup down.  
  
"It's okay. It's okay." Vaughn said, taking her into his arms to comfort her. This time, she accepted the gesture. "I understand. It's fine. It's fine."  
  
"No, it's not!" she exploded, shoving herself away from him so that she could pace round the kitchen. "I'm supposed to be one of the best agents, right? No mission to hard." she asked bitterly, but continued before he could answer her question. "And I can't even do my job properly because of what the bastard did to me."  
  
"Syd." Vaughn said, standing up.  
  
She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "And now they want me to talk to him but I can't." Silent tears were rolling down her face. She made no move to wipe them away.  
  
"Syd..." Vaughn said again. She turned to look at him with bloodshot eyes from crying.  
  
"Yes?" she asked formally.  
  
He was saved from answering by the doorbell ringing. 


	29. Shock

Jack Bristow pulled up outside of his daughter's house. Outside it was dark and heavy rain pounded onto the windows and roof of the car. He sat in the idling car for a long moment before he switched off the engine and climbed out of the warmth. He quickly locked the car and walked briskly up the path to the front door. It all felt so normal. He could hardly believe that he was there to tell his daughter's two best friends that she was dead. He knocked loudly on the wooden door, ignoring the doorbell. After an uncomfortable moment of waiting, the door was flung open by Will, with the words: "Syd? You forget your keys again?"  
  
The half-teasing expression on his face changed as he saw exactly who was standing on the doorstep. He looked down at the beer bottle in his hand, the seemed to remember his manners  
  
"Hello, Mr. Bristow." He said in a subdued voice, already half-expecting bad news. Why else would Syd's dad turn up on her doorstep in the middle of the night?  
  
"Hello, Will. May I come in? I have some bad news." Jack said, keeping his voice perfectly neutral.  
  
"Ugh. yeah, sure. Come on in." Will said, stepping back from the door so jack had room to enter the house. "Want me to take your coat?" Will asked.  
  
"No, thank you." He said, then looked up with a stained smile as Francie entered the kitchen.  
  
"Hey." She said  
  
"Please, sit down." Jack said, taking a seat himself. He'd never been one to beat around the bush, so he came straight out with the truth. "Syd's dead." He said.  
  
"Oh, God. Mr. Bristow, I'm so sorry. I had no idea." Francie said, then started to sob, quiet little sobs that were worse than anything else.  
  
"I'm sorry." Will said. "how. how did it happen?"  
  
"Her plane came down in severe turbulence over the French Alps. There where no survivors."  
  
For a long moment, the only sound in the kitchen was Francie's quiet sobs. To Will, Jack didn't seem that upset by his only daughter's death. Maybe it's just some kind of shock, a delayed reaction, Will thought.  
  
"I came to get some of her stuff, if that's okay." Jack asked  
  
"Yeah, sure. Let me get you a box." Will said, feeling like he was dreaming- no having a nightmare. He could hardly believe that Syd was dead. He passed Jack the box and watched as the man made his way to Syd's bedroom. He seemed older somehow.  
  
He came out about fifteen minutes later, still carrying the box, which was now stuffed full of Syd's things.  
  
"Mr. Bristow?" Francie asked quietly as he made his way to the door. Her make up was ruined from her tears. Mascara had formed black lines down her face, carving lines in her base and powder.  
  
"Yes?" he said tiredly, not having the energy to conduct a conversation. "If you need anything, feel free to stop by."  
  
"Thank you." He said, touched by her offer. "I'll remember that." He offered her a strained smile and left the house, hating what he had just done. 


	30. Lost

Jane Fenwick had just sat down for the night. Originally from Texas, she had moved to California to be with Peter, who she'd met in a bar. It had been love at first sight. She had just tucked her two children into bed. The oldest, a girl called Lucy, was only four. The youngest, a little boy called Alex was just a shade over two. As she sat, resting her feet for the first time that day, she rested a hand protectively on her seven-month pregnant stomach. The child there was restless.  
  
She took a sip of the tall, cool drink resting on the round table next to her and sighed. She missed Peter when he was away. She was thinking about going to bed when she heard the doorbell ring insistently.  
  
"I'm coming." She called as she got up slowly, padding softly down the hall in her pajamas and robe. Before she opened the door, she glanced through the spy hole, seeing a pair of tall, smartly dressed men standing on her stoop. She opened the door, leaving the chain on.  
  
"Mrs. Fenwick? Can I come in?" one of the men asked, holding up a CIA badge.  
  
"Yeah, sure." She said "Just give me a minute to take the chain off." She shut the door softly, unhooking the chain then opened the door wide again.  
  
"Come in." she said and led the way into the family room. She sat down in the chair she had occupied earlier, while the men both took a seat on the white leather couch. Without conscious thought, her hand was resting in her stomach, guarding the life there.  
  
"I'm John and this is Chris." The taller of the two agents said.  
  
From the doorway, she heard her daughter's voice "Mommy, I want a drink." Her long blonde hair was tousled from sleep and her cheeks were flushed. Jane smiled as she looked at her daughter, who promptly stuck her thumb in her mouth. She turned and left the room.  
  
"Okay honey, I'll get you one in a second." She said with a glance at the agents.  
  
"Go ahead. We can wait." The agent called Chris said. "is that your daughter?"  
  
"Yeah," she said fondly "I have a son too. Then there's this one on the way!'  
  
"She's adorable." John said.  
  
"Thanks. Would you like anything to drink?" she asked politely.  
  
"No thank you." They said in union.  
  
With a small smile at them, she got to her feet and made her way to the kitchen. Moments later, she back in carrying Lucy, who had a cup of milk in one small hand. She sat her daughter down on the couch, then sat down herself.  
  
"What can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked  
  
"Unfortunately, we have some bad news. You husband was killed yesterday in an accident."  
  
"Wh.what?" she asked in disbelief.  
  
"He was caught in the middle of a shooting." John said in a gentle voice.  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh God. Oh God." Lucy, upset by her mom crying joined in too. Jane hugged her daughter, giving and receiving comfort at the same time.  
  
"Is there anyone we can call for you?" Chris asked.  
  
"My Mom. Her number is on the phone." She said between sobs  
  
"Okay."  
  
Five minutes later, he came back into the room.  
  
"She's on her way." he said "will you be okay on your own until she gets here or would you like us to go?"  
  
"You can go. I'll be okay." She said in a monotone.  
  
"Are you sure?" Chris asked  
  
"Yes." She said in the same monotone. She barely heard them leave. 


	31. Crash

They both glanced at each other, falling right into 'agent' mode. She wiped her eyes and composed herself in less than a second. Vaughn pulled his gun- a Smith and Wesson - out of it's holster which sat on the right side of his hip, thought better of his shooting skills and passed it to Syd. He didn't want to risk her life because of his aim. No-one outside of the CIA should know that they where there.  
  
She took the gun from Vaughn. It felt strange in her hand, cold and heavy. It was a long time since she'd held a gun. She hadn't held one since she was shot. She shivered and all of the little hairs on her arms stood up. Her instincts had taken over, keeping them safe when she didn't know whom to trust.  
  
Vaughn walked apprehensively up to the door. It was bullet-proof, but that didn't mean much if the person on the other side had a set of lock picks and a gun. All it would take was five minutes to pick the lock, and they'd be in. He peered through the spy-hole and almost laughed at the irony of the name. Instead of seeing a face, all he saw was a CIA badge with the name Andrews, Mark on it. The picture showed a dark-haired youngish man with startlingly blue eyes and pale skin. He stepped back from the door to let Sydney have a look. She did, and opened the door, keeping her gun levered at chest height. Her aim was steady, and Vaughn was somewhat comforted to know that if she had to shot, she would do so without hesitating.  
  
The agent walked in, holding both hands up. Vaughn reached behind him and shut the door, putting the chain on to make sure that it was secure. In the agent's right hand, he still held his badge. He didn't speak, only passed his badge to Vaughn, who was slightly closer to him than Sydney. He moved slowly, so that there was no mistaking his actions. He wanted a bullet in the head as much as the next guy did. He knew that Sydney was quite able to shoot him if she felt it necessary. Vaughn took the badge from him and inspected it carefully.  
  
"Looks alright." Vaughn said, tossing it to Syd, who caught it in one hand. She looked at it for a few seconds, then lowered her gun.  
  
"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked simply, gesturing for him to sit down in one of the overstuffed chairs.  
  
"I was sent here by your father, Sydney," he said seriously, keeping eye contact with her even as she tried to look away, "he told me to protect you from." before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off.  
  
"Why does everyone think I need protecting? I'm quite capable of looking after myself." She snapped coldly, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. Vaughn laid a calming hand on her arm, quietening her.  
  
"Phone your Dad. Find out if what he said was true." He said reasonably. She hesitated, then crossed the room to the portable phone. She speed dialled the number, anxiously pacing the room as she waited for him to answer. After the sixth or seventh ring she put the phone down slowly.  
  
"There's no answer." She said slowly. She frowned, looking very worried. She brought her thumb to her mouth, gnawing on the nail as she tried to think.  
  
"He could just be out, you know, buying groceries, seeing friends, putting gas into his car." Vaughn said. The look on Sydney's face told him just how unlikely it all was. She turned to glare at Andrews. Even from where Vaughn stood, he could feel her irritation.  
  
"You." She said sharply, "talk."  
  
He did. 


	32. Loose

They sat and listened for almost forty-five minutes as he told them what he knew. Sydney stood up and began to pace the length of the room; her arms wrapped around her self as if she was very cold. She wasn't cold, just shocked. And frightened by what she'd heard. She felt confused and more than a little dazed by the agent's words. Her head ached and she was still trying to fully absorb his words. She looked at Vaughn, who was pale. She guessed that she looked as bad as he did.  
  
"How?" she asked in a small voice "How could he escape?" Her words came out more harshly than she had intended them to, but she didn't care. She couldn't muster up the energy to care.  
  
"We think he had help on the inside." Andrews said softly "But don't worry, he'll never get past the airport before he's picked up again."  
  
She turned on him angrily "You make it sound so, so easy!" she adopted a good impression of his voice and said mockingly "Don't worry Sydney, the sick bastard who tortured you for days on end has escaped, but we'll soon have him back were he belongs! Everything's fine!"  
  
"Syd?" Vaughn asked tentatively.  
  
Her voice was dangerously quiet as she spoke to him.  
  
"Don't." she said warningly "Don't. It's not either of you that has nightmares about THAT MAN every single night. It wasn't either of you that he locked up in an abandoned walk-in freezer. So just don't, okay." She turned away and sat down heavily on a chair.  
  
She knew that her words had cut deep. She'd seen the hurt look cross Vaughn's face before he could stop it. A part of her was deeply ashamed of her words, but another part couldn't care less. She knew that she was suffering from a type of shock. She could feel herself shaking. She knew that she was crying again and she angrily scrubbed a hand across her face, wiping away the tears. She was sick of crying. She was sick of hiding. It was time to take action.  
  
She stood up. Both men looked at her, perhaps expecting another emotional outburst. Neither of them dared speak.  
  
"Vaughn, call my dad. Get him here- I don't care how." She said and turned to Andrews, seeing Vaughn pick up the phone and dial. "Can you fight?" she asked.  
  
"Well, yeah, I think." He said uncertainly. "I used to be on the Kung Fu team in college."  
  
"Stand up." She said.  
  
She knew that she shouldn't be fighting- her stitches had only been taken out a few days before, but she had no choice. He stood, dropping into a fighting position. She shot an open hand towards his head. He ducked just in time. Her hand scraped over his head without doing any damage. He came back up and feigned a right hand blow to her ribcage. She pivoted on one foot, avoiding his hand by inches.  
  
She saw his left hand moving towards her head and blocked it with her left forearm while she lifted her knee and slammed it into his stomach just hard enough to let him know she could do it. He recovered more quickly than she'd anticipated and tried to punch her with his right hand. She grabbed his wrist and swung behind him, capturing him in a arm-lock.  
  
"You'll do." She said, slightly out of breath.  
  
Vaughn had been watching them spar and stood. "Syd, there's still no answer. The answer-phone didn't even come on." He said and saw her face harden.  
  
"Okay, then we go to him." she said and got her coat. Neither of the men protested, knowing they'd do the same in her position.  
  
Minutes later, they were in Andrews car, speeding to her dad's house. 


	33. Knowing

Outside, in the LA night, it was cold and foggy, obscuring the hundreds of stars. The ride to her dad's house felt much longer than it actually was. Syd didn't know why she had such a bad feeling, but it was getting worse with each mile that took them closer to her dad's house. Both Vaughn and Andrews had tried to comfort her, offering empty platitudes that made her feel no better. She knew that her dad could look after himself. She just wanted him not to have to.  
  
They sat in silence until Andrews broke it, turning around in his seat to face her.  
  
"Umm, Syd, sorry to ask this, but what do we do if we get there and he's, umm, you know, fine? Just been out or something? It's like, ten at night." He said, adding "he might not be very happy to have us barging in on him."  
  
"Then I apologize, and we fill him in with what's going on." She said, "I just can't see him going out anywhere when he knows that Artis is on the run."  
  
"What do you think is going on?" this came from Vaughn, who was driving.  
  
The house was dark and silent when they pulled up outside a few minutes later. His car was on the drive, which struck her as being strange. He normally put the car into the garage overnight. Less chance that way of waking up one morning with a bomb under the car. The garage door itself was closed and probably locked.  
  
Syd was out of the car almost before it had stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vaughn cross to the car, laying a hand on the hood to see if it was warm. From the way he shook his head, she guessed that it was cold. Both men had their guns out, but she didn't have one. That didn't matter. She was going to get a weapon in a few minutes, if it had been left.  
  
She ran across the lawn in her haste to reach the front door. It swung open when she pushed it with her boot-clad foot. She frowned and kicked the door hard, stopping outside the open door only long enough to assure herself that it was clear. She stepped through the doorway as quickly as possible, not wanting to give Artis or one of his goons a framed target to shoot at. If that's who'd broken in, she added silently to herself.  
  
Once inside, they split up, Syd taking the downstairs, while Vaughn and Andrews took the upstairs. They'd split up like that because she knew the house and they didn't. While the men were busy upstairs, she headed for her dad's gun cupboard, which was hidden in the basement. When she got there, she wasn't surprised to see that the guns had been taken, but they'd left her one of her favorite weapons- a crossbow and bolts. The crossbow looked ancient and as if it would fall apart if it was fired, but that was the idea. It was really in perfect working condition.  
  
She'd just picked up the crossbow and a couple of racks of bolts, which she strapped to her arm, when she heard a noise. A heavy thud followed by a groan. She swore under her breath and left the basement on silent feet, loading the crossbow as she went. She heard another groan from upstairs, and followed the sound.  
  
She went up the stairs two at a time, her leg muscles burning by the time she reached the top. She turned onto the landing and stopped in shocked amazement.  
  
"What the hell?" she muttered 


	34. If

Andrews was lying on the hallway floor. His gun was missing and he had a large lump forming on the back of his head. She crossed the short distance to kneel by his side. He struggled to sit up and she helped him, letting him lean heavily against the wall. His eyes drifted past her face without recognition.  
  
"What happened? Where's Vaughn? Did the have my father with them?" she asked and got no answer. "Agent Andrews! Answer me!" she snapped. His eyes focused on her face.  
  
"They took Vaughn." He said. "They crept up on us. I got knocked out by one of them. Don't know what happened after that." he said, answering her questions in reverse.  
  
"Okay. Think you can get up?" she asked, offering a hand, wishing she knew what to do. She was scared for her father, for Vaughn.  
  
"Yeah." He said, and with help from her, got shakily to his feet. Outside a car started up, but the car didn't drive off. She glanced at him, almost pleading.  
  
"Go." He said "I'll be here when you get back." She thanked him with a quick smile as she ran for the stairs, scooping up the crossbow as she went. Andrews slowly made his way downstairs, where he picked up the phone to report a break in.  
  
Less than a minute later, she was in her own car, a new jeep, following a black car which looked like a Toyota Celica. Hers was the bigger of the two, but the one she was following was faster. The car drove sedately, making it easy to follow, heading out of the city. She touched the brakes as they made a turn, frowning when the felt strangely soft. A moment later, she was forced to put it out of her mind as they hit the freeway. The black car in front of her suddenly sped up. In a moment she lost them as they pulled in front of a semi truck. She swore under her breath as she scanned the road in front, frantically searching for them.  
  
She found them again moments later as they made a turn right, onto a fire road. She braked and just made the turn in the big jeep. On the road in front of her, the car was parked across the narrow dirt road. She yanked the steering wheel as hard as she could to the right trying to avoid what looked like an inevitable collision. The thick tires fought for traction on the slick ground and she felt the jeep start to skid- right towards Vaughn's car. She tried the brakes again, appalled to find that they weren't working.  
  
Vaughn sat in the driver's seat, seemingly oblivious to the big jeep hurtling towards him. She pressed her hand down flat on the horn. The sound shattered the still air, but his still didn't move. She had nowhere to turn the jeep- there was a sheer drop on one side of the road and a cliff face on the other. Neither idea appealed to her greatly.  
  
She pressed the horn again as she tried the brakes, hoping that by some miracle they would be working. They weren't. Now that she was closer to Vaughn's car, she could see that both of his hands were hand-cuffed to the steering wheel. Next to Vaughn's car, there was a small, wedge shaped rock outcrop. If she drove the jeep over that, she would miss Vaughn's car totally. If she was lucky, the jeep wouldn't land on it's roof or the driver's side.  
  
She pressed the gas pedal slightly and squared her shoulders. As the jeep's wheels left the ground, it started to spin. It missed Vaughn's car by inches, but they didn't touch each other. It hit the road on the driver's side and skidded along the rough surface for a few feet before coming to a jarring halt. 


	35. Dreaming

Jack woke up in total darkness. The last thing that he could remember was going into his kitchen to make a cup of herbal tea for himself. After that, the memories were kinda fuzzy. When he reached out, around him, feeling his surroundings, he found out that he was in an enclosed space, not much bigger than he was.  
  
Under his back, he could feel rough carpet. He could smell faint gasoline fumes. Now and again, he sensed movement, but it was hard to tell without anything to see. His confused mind put it all together- he was in a car trunk, going somewhere. Being taken somewhere against his will. Not that it was the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last.  
  
He felt the car slow, then stop suddenly, sending him rolling into the wall of the trunk. His elbow connected painfully with the floor and he hissed in pain. Outside, he could hear voices and footsteps. He started banging on the trunk lid for all he was worth. It suddenly opened, and he was left squinting in the harsh light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black object rushing toward his head. It struck him on his left temple, hitting hard. He saw stars, then nothing as he lost consciousness.  
  
He came round a moment later in another trunk. He could tell it was different because the dimensions had changed and he could smell the almost overpowering scent of fried chicken. He banged as hard as he could on the trunk lid. It was opened almost immediately. His captors were apparently satisfied they'd done him no lasting harm, because they shut the trunk lid again. Jack started feeling around the trunk, looking for something- anything- that would help him escape. He was desperately worried for Sydney, and though he hated admitting it to himself, Vaughn as well. After all she had been through, it would kill Syd if anything happened to either one of them.  
  
Vaughn wasn't in a much better state. He been handcuffed and forced to drive, knowing all the time that he was probably going to die when they reached their destination. It was a sobering thought. After handcuffing him to the steering wheel, his captors, Artis included, got out of the car to investigate the banging coming from the trunk.  
  
The trunk lid slammed shut and seconds later another car arrived from the other direction to pick Artis and his goons up. Vaughn could just see something being moved to the other car, but couldn't quite make out what it was because of the angle he was sitting at. After a moment, the other car drove away, leaving him alone.  
  
He sat and tried to undo the handcuffs, but couldn't. He looked up just in time to see Syd's huge new jeep hurtling towards his immobilized car. He heard her blast him on the horn, but he was helpless. Why isn't she slowing down? He thought wildly. He couldn't move the car and he couldn't get out. As the jeep got closer to what, for him, would most likely be a fatal collision, he closed his eyes tightly, silently apologizing to Syd for failing her so very badly. 


	36. Watching

Sydney slowly opened her eyes, surprised to find herself mostly intact. She was resting against the driver's door, which was against the road. She had a cut above one eye that was still bleeding, telling her that she hadn't been unconscious for very long. Various parts of her body ached, but she'd had worse. Much, much worse. She released the seatbelt and slowly climbed out of the passenger's side door, stopping inside the wrecked jeep only long enough to find her purse, keys and cell phone. She also grabbed the crossbow, thinking it might be useful.  
  
She walked away from the without a backwards glance, heading purposely towards Vaughn's car. When she reached it, she found the doors locked, so she was forced to smash the passenger side window with the crossbow, hoping that none of the glass would hit Vaughn. When she unlocked the door and got into the car, she was still faced with the problem of how to free Vaughn.  
  
"Hey." he said.  
  
"Hey yourself." She said distractedly, looking for anything she could use to open the handcuffs.  
  
"You're bleeding." He said, noticing the cut on her face.  
  
"So are you." As careful as she had been, some of the glass had still hit him, cutting him in a few places. Artis had become careless, because on the floor of the car, tucked under the seat, she found the key to the handcuffs. She gave a small whoop of delight and unlocked his hands. They got out of the car.  
  
"How are you?" Vaughn asked, stretching his cramped arms and shoulders with a groan.  
  
"I'm fine. Don't worry, this," she said, touching the cut "will soon heal."  
  
"That wasn't what I meant and you know it." He said, a little more sharply than he'd meant to.  
  
"I'm fine, Vaughn." She said forcefully, reacting to his sharp tone.  
  
"Good. That's good." Vaughn said, then said, "what do we do now?"  
  
"Now we find a car, and go get my dad back." She was really, really pissed off. No-one messed with her family. 


	37. Park

Syd closed her eyes, which stung with exhaustion. She was sitting on a cream overstuffed chair in her father's house. After she had rescued Vaughn from the car, they had rung Andrews from a payphone and he had picked them up in her father's car. They had chosen to wait at the house in case Artis called, knowing that he would have the number. So far, after almost three and a half-hours of waiting there had been nothing.  
  
The only phone call had been a wrong number who Sydney had swiftly and cuttingly dealt with, fearing what would happen to her father if they missed the call. She sighed in frustration and started to pace the length of the room again. She was only succeeding in tiring herself out. She knew it, but she had to do something.  
  
She dropped into the chair near to the phone again, exhaustion- both nervous and physical- showing clearly. She rubbed her hand across her face. That one tiny gesture showed Vaughn, who was watching her anxiously from across the room, just how tired she really was. He went out to the kitchen and she heard the fridge door open.  
  
He came back with two cans of soda. "Here," he said passing her the ice cold can.  
  
"Thanks," she said and took the condensation-covered can from him. She popped open the can of soda he passed her with her car key. The sugar and caffeine kicked in after a few minutes and she felt a little better. She rubbed her tired eyes and stretched so hard that her back cracked loudly, protesting at the rough treatment.  
  
"Syd?" Vaughn asked in a concerned voice. "How long is it since you last slept? I mean properly, not just a five minute nap." he said, knowing her habits well. Three years serving as her handler had taught him a number of things about him. One of those things was that she rarely slept as well as she clamed to when he asked.  
  
She thought for a moment, trying hard to remember, then shrugged slightly "I don't know." It was said quietly. "I couldn't sleep at a time like this, anyway." She added sharply. He looked at her pointedly. She shook her head and smiled a little in apology. She didn't mean that to come out like it did, he thought, she's just scared for Jack.  
  
The phone rang suddenly and shockingly. Sydney darted from her seat to pick it up before it stopped ringing. Both Vaughn and Andrews half stood as they waited for her signal. At her slight nod, they both began trying to trace the call.  
  
"Hello?" she said hesitantly. Instead of hearing a voice, all she heard at first was static. Slowly, she was able to make out sounds. The sound of a fist hitting a body. Groans of pain. Swearing. A gunshot. All sounds, to her, that summarised subterfuge. She hated the life she'd so readily gotten herself into. She closed her eyes in despair, feeling the full burden of what she did for the first time in a long, long while. It was a heavy load to carry, but it would be heavier if she lost Jack.  
  
Vaughn came to stand next to her, silently offering his support. Andrews was still trying desperately to trace the call. So far, he'd gotten three numbers, but they didn't tell him much. Vaughn could see by her face that what she was hearing wasn't pleasant. He didn't offer to take over, however, somehow understanding that this was something she had to do by herself.  
  
Suddenly, the sounds were interrupted by a male voice so low she had to strain to hear what was being said. "West Hollywood Park. North entrance. 30 minutes. Come alone and unarmed." There was a click as he put the phone down.  
  
"I have to get to West Hollywood Park." Sydney said and bolted for the door, stopping only long enough to grab the crossbow and car keys. 


	38. Place

A/N- The song used in this chapter is 'The Safest Place' by LeAnne Rimes, from the album 'Twisted Angel'. The song is not mine and I am making no money from it's use.  
  
Sydney flipped the radio on as she drove, more as a distraction for her racing mind than to listen to. She thought that she'd figured out who Artis' inside help was as well, and the suspicion sickened her almost beyond belief. She couldn't believe that she'd trusted him with her life on more than one occasion. The sheer thought of them working together, plotting against Vaughn, her father and herself was enough to make her blood boil with fury. A song cam onto the radio and caught her attention.  
  
Daytime, I'm fine, Everything is back to normal, But last night I thought that I would die, I had nightmares; I was so scared, Thank god that you were by my side, To hold me when I cried,  
  
Syd realised that she was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were bone white and her fingers were going dead. She forced herself to relax her grip, breathing deeply for a few minutes, in a technique that she had learned while training. She was scared by the thought of seeing Artis again, but determined to show him a little of the old Sydney magic. She smiled at the thought of vengeance against her captor. She checked again for any tails and found none.  
  
I wanna be strong, but I don't want to be alone tonight, I wanna believe that I can save the world and make it right, But I believe that you have a hero's face, And right here in your arms is the safest place, The safest place,  
  
A quick glance at the car clock showed her that she had six minutes left to arrive at the park. They'd been stingy on her time allowance, but she was sure that she could make it. She didn't want to think of what might happen if she were late. Visions of her father's body, beaten and bloody, raced through her mind. She shook her head to dispel the horrific images and tried to concentrate on driving. In front of her, a light turned red. She pressed the gas peddle and the car shot through the intersection cleanly, leaving a chorus of car horns blazing behind her.  
  
It feels so real, You assure me that I can trust you with emotions I had locked away, It was your touch, your words, that healed the deepest part of me, That only you can see, As long as I am with you, As long as I can feel you, That's all I need to keep me going on and on,  
  
Two turns later, she pulled up at the east entrance to the small park with two minutes to spare. She killed the engine and had her first look around, checking for people. At first, she saw nothing, but after a few seconds, she could just make out the outline of a man waiting in the trees. She got out of the car, leaving the crossbow behind and walked over to his position, dreading what was about to happen.  
  
I wanna be strong, but I don't want to be alone tonight, I wanna believe that I can save the world and make it right, But I believe that you have a hero's face, And right here in your arms is the safest place, The safest place, The safest place, 


	39. Winning

Jack watched as his daughter pulled up at the park entrance in his car. He didn't know weather to be relieved that she was there or terrified that she was going to get killed. She got out of the car and stalked across to where Artis and White were. She looked furious, Jack noted. Every inch of her body was brimming with fury.  
  
The two men stopped talking as she approached, but made no effort to move towards her. She had left the crossbow in the car, along with a cell phone she had 'borrowed' from Andrews.  
  
"I'm here. Where is he?" she demanded. Her voice was hard and steady. She held White's gaze easily and it was White who looked away first. When he didn't reply, she turned her gaze to Artis. He didn't answer her.  
  
"Well? I'm waiting." She said.  
  
"You'll see him, soon enough." White said. He sounded shaken. Syd knew that it was him who was going to give her any information, not Artis.  
  
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked angrily. "He could be dead right now."  
  
"You'll just have to trust us, won't you?" Artis spoke to her for the first time since she had arrived in the park.  
  
Artis put out a hand to touch her hair. She looked at him with utter loathing in her dark eyes.  
  
"Don't." she said simply. The hate in that one word was enough to freeze his hand before he could touch her.  
  
"Don't what?" he asked silkily, although he already knew. All traces of his original accent had been dropped. She realised with a jolt that he was copying the way both Vaughn and her father both spoke.  
  
"Touch me." She snapped.  
  
"You're different now, you know." He said. "Not at all like you were when you were my guest at the warehouse."  
  
"People change." It was a simple fact stated easily by her. "Plus, I was never a guest. I was a captive, a prisoner."  
  
"No, they don't. They only think they do." Artis said. "Take me, for example. I haven't changed one bit, have I?"  
  
"No," she admitted, "But I have." A flicker of movement behind him caught her eye. She realized that it was her father, who was creeping up on Artis with a very deadly look on his face.  
  
"I hope you like sharing a room." She said sweetly, smiling at the perplexed expression on his face. Jack's stolen gun made contact with his temple and he froze.  
  
"Hey Dad. You okay?" she asked quickly  
  
"I'm fine, sweetie." He said with a quick smile. "I've got this, Syd." Jack added.  
  
"Thanks." She said, knowing that again, business would have to come before pleasure. She turned and walked away, heading for her car and borrowed cell phone, satisfied that White wasn't a threat.  
  
"Wait!" White called, sounding almost panicked. She slowed her pace, but didn't stop. "Sydney, wait!"  
  
She stopped, but didn't turn. She could hear him as he ran across the short expanse of grass separating them. He caught up to her and stood catching his breath next to her. Before he could speak, she cut him off  
  
"The man in Russia, the one who shot me with a dart, that was you. You ordered him to, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, but the damn thing was never meant for you, Sydney. It was meant for. to hit Vaughn." 


	40. Time

For a second, all she could do was stare at him in shocked amazement. Once she had recovered from the shock, she approached him carefully, wary of being tricked. He didn't move as she fastened his hands behind his back, using her red leather belt for the lack of anything else. A slight frown creased her face as she spun him around to look at her.  
  
"What?" she asked in a pissed off voice. "Explain to me what you just said."  
  
Behind them, Jack was securing Artis's arms behind his back. Artis was swearing and struggling against Jack, who pinned him to the floor with a knee in his spine. The heavyset man stopped struggling, but he still spat curses at Jack, both in English and his native language.  
  
White lowered his eyes from her furious gaze and said "The dart was filled with a poison typed to Vaughn's DNA. If it had hit him, he would have been dead in seconds. In you, the poison acted like snake venom." He explained  
  
"Yes, that's fine, but why do you want to kill Vaughn? He's done nothing to you, for gods sake!" she snapped  
  
"We have good information that Vaughn is working for a Russian terrorist group." He said heavily, knowing the information would hurt her.  
  
"Who gave you this information?" she demanded angrily.  
  
"Your father was the one who give us the tip."  
  
The loaded sentence hung in the still dusk air for a moment while she considered it. She shook her head vehemently.  
  
"No. You're lying. Vaughn would never work for the Russians after what happened to his father. You must know that." She said, fervently.  
  
"Syd." Jack's voice was gentle, "it's true. He is working with the Russians to destroy the CIA from inside. He wants power and he's not afraid to fight for it." 


	41. Drift

For a second, all she could do was stare at him in shocked amazement. Once she had recovered from the shock, she approached him carefully, wary of being tricked. He didn't move as she fastened his hands behind his back, using her red leather belt for the lack of anything else. A slight frown creased her face as she spun him around to look at her.  
  
"What?" she asked in a pissed off voice. "Explain to me what you just said."  
  
Behind them, Jack was securing Artis's arms behind his back. Artis was swearing and struggling against Jack, who pinned him to the floor with a knee in his spine. The heavyset man stopped struggling, but he still spat curses at Jack, both in English and his native language.  
  
White lowered his eyes from her furious gaze and said "The dart was filled with a poison typed to Vaughn's DNA. If it had hit him, he would have been dead in seconds. In you, the poison acted like snake venom." He explained  
  
"Yes, that's fine, but why do you want to kill Vaughn? He's done nothing to you, for Gods sake!" she snapped  
  
"We have good information that Vaughn is working for a Russian terrorist group." He said heavily, knowing the information would hurt her. "As of yet, we don't know which one."  
  
"Who gave you this information?" she demanded angrily. She stood directly in front of him, with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Your father was the one who give us the information." White said.  
  
The loaded sentence hung in the still dusk air for a moment while she considered it. She shook her head vehemently.  
  
"No. You're lying. Vaughn would never work for the Russians after what happened to his father. You must know that." She said, fervently.  
  
"Syd." Jack's voice was gentle, "it's true. He is working with the Russians to destroy the CIA from inside. He wants power and he's not afraid to fight for it." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, bus she shrugged him off.  
  
They turned as one as they heard a car pull up outside of the park.  
  
"Well, I guess we'll find out." Syd said darkly as she walked towards the distinctive figure of Vaughn. 


	42. Lies

Sydney turned away from them, sickened by their words. Jack was telling her things that she didn't want to hear. They sounded too much like the truth.  
  
"I don't want to hear this!" she said in a small voice "It can't be true. Vaughn would never work...." Her hands were clenched into fists as her sides. She wanted to hit someone, but didn't know who was the wrongdoer. Instead, she settled for pacing angrily.  
  
"I don't care! You have to know." Jack interrupted her in mid-sentence "Sydney, I know that I have betrayed your trust before, but I've always believed that I was doing the right thing. I'm sorry, truly, but this is the truth. Vaughn is working for the Russians." There wasn't a hint of doubt behind his words. He totally believed what he was saying.  
  
"Dad, you're right when you say that you've betrayed me- and my trust- on more than one occasion. Why should this time be any different?" Sydney asked slowly. "Vaughn has never given me any reason not to trust him. He's been there for me when you've not." She held his furious gaze steadily, not flinching.  
  
"Because I have proof. Proof that he was behind your capture, the... interrogation you received while being held... it all leads straight to Vaughn." The heavy truth in his words hit Sydney badly. She tensed, a mere second away from screaming that she didn't believe him- she didn't want to.  
  
White, sensing that there was about to be an argument between parent and daughter, wisely stepped in. "Agent Bristow, Sydney, please." He said, trying to appease them both and failing. They both turned as one and glared at him identically. "Whether Agent Vaughn is or isn't working with the Russians, we can't stand here and debate it." There was a note of common sense and warning in his voice.  
  
"Agent White is correct." Jack said, stepping over to where he'd tied Artis to a convenient branch. The dark man was still there, muttering about police brutality and the thing's he'd like to do to Jack. Jack ignored his mutterings, and untied his bound arms.  
  
Sydney stood at the edge of the motley group watching the man she thought she loved walk over to them. If what Jack said was true, then the implications were dire. She'd already lost one man she loved- she didn't want to loose another.  
  
As soon as Vaughn reached them, Sydney stepped up to him. In a soft, deadly voice, she asked "Is it true?" There was no need to add more details. The reaction on his face was enough for her. She raised a hand to her face, covering her mouth. When she's asked the question, an expression of absolute puzzlement had crossed Vaughn's face. He didn't know what she was talking about.  
  
She turned to the group.  
  
"Which one is lying to me?" her voice threatened to break, but she kept it under control. Her eyes singled out the man who looked around guiltily. She couldn't believe who she was looking at. 


	43. Exposed

"Daddy?" She asked, shock and utter disappointment causing her to fall back on her childhood name for him.

He had the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry Syd." He offered. "Things aren't what they seem."

"So tell me. Clear up the confusion." Her voice was pitched low, but it was forceful enough to carry.

"I can't." The regret in his voice seemed genuine enough, but so had many things.

"Tell me!" She shouted. "I want to understand why you would betray us… me." The implications of what she was saying suddenly hit her and it took all of her willpower not to let her knees buckle. "You were behind it. You were behind my capture… my torture." Disgust coloured her features, melted into her words. "Oh, god. You bastard…." She couldn't find the words to describe her feelings towards her father. She felt sick, nausea making her stomach churn.

Vaughn and White stood on, keeping out of the line of fire. Vaughn hurt for Sydney. It felt like his heart had been torn from his chest. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how she felt. Everything about her body language screamed how hurt she was. For one parent to betray you was awful… two was unthinkable.

"I'm sorry." Jack said, a little edge of emotion creeping into his tone. It wasn't enough. It could never be enough. He had crossed that line one too many times. Nothing he said now would make any difference.

Syd didn't even answer him. She turned and walked away into the park, head down, shoulders hunched.

"God, what a mess." White said. "I'll take these two back." He said, looking at Jack and Artis. Turning to face Vaughn, he added. "You, go after her. Make sure she's okay."

"I will." Vaughn said. "Don't worry about that." He left the others getting into a car, jogging after Sydney.

He found her in the centre of the park, surrounded by an aura of sadness. She was sitting on one of the benches, tucked away in-between two leafy trees. Her legs were tucked under her, arms wrapped around her body. He sat next to her, close but not touching.

"I'm sorry." He offered softly, "God, Syd. I wish I could make things better for you."

She didn't say a word but didn't resist as he pulled her into his arms. It felt like eternity before she stopped shaking and let the tears come.


End file.
